


Flicker

by peanutiger



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hawke and Fenris have a daughter, I just wanted to write about actual best uncle ever varric tethras, Minor Fenris/Female Hawke (Dragon Age), Teenage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Uncle Varric Tethras, inquisitor hates her job
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-26 01:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 47,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21366205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peanutiger/pseuds/peanutiger
Summary: Solea Hawke has been hiding all her life but now she's the center of attention and she must hide not only the truth about her parents but her abilities as a mage if she has any hope of being accepted by the people who are determined that she is the one that must save them all.Dragon Age: Inquisition like we all know and love but the timeline gets a little messed up and Hawke and Fenris have a daughter named Solea that the world doesn't know about until she sneaks away to the Conclave to look for her favorite dwarf uncle who has been unfairly kidnapped by an evil Seeker.  Thanks to the good ol' Hawke family luck, she ends up becoming Inquisitor at the ripe age of 15 and gets thrust into a position and power she never wanted.  How quickly can she save the world and then get home to her family without revealing the many secrets she has to hide?
Relationships: Fenris & Female Hawke, Fenris/Female Hawke
Comments: 46
Kudos: 67





	1. Interloper

If she ever made it out of this alive, Varric was going to kill her. Although to be fair, it wasn’t her fault everything went completely to shit. It was just her fault that she was there in the first place. Maker, if Solea survived this nonsense with the Breach, and Varric’s anger, her parents were sure to be next in the line of things trying to kill her. She was so screwed.

Varric’s eyes were glinting with that look that said he was holding back a tide of words. Not normal for him, to hold back, but the reason for his reticence was also glaring at her. The Seeker’s face was full of a mix of suspicion and anger as she glared between Solea and Varric. Cassandra wasn’t sure what was going on, nothing new for anyone today, but she had clearly understood that something unsaid was passing between dwarf and elf.

Solea definitely deserved some of the Seeker’s ire; she hadn’t been very nice to her when they’d first met. Not that she cared, Solea wasn’t exactly the Seeker’s biggest fan, considering her kidnapping of Varric was the only reason she was here. The only person she cared about here was him; everyone else was just obstacles in her way. Plus, her first meeting with the Seeker hadn’t exactly been in the best of circumstances.

Waking up with cold iron shackles latched around her wrists in a musty prison cell had sent Solea straight into a panic, her mind spiraling away from logic at the restriction. Memories surged. It was too similar to before. Heart racing, eyes darting, only a lifetime of practice at controlling her facial expressions, and the realization that it wasn’t templars surrounding her, had kept her from losing control. That would not end well for anyone.

She’d kept her head bent and eyes shut resolutely until she caught her breath and was assured that her eyes weren’t glowing. Solea thanked all the gods that she was still in the clothes she’d worn to the Conclave and that they were intact enough to keep her covered. The lack of templars told her they didn’t know she was a mage and as Casandra began to interrogate her, Solea knew her life depended on that, along with everything else, remaining a secret. They already blamed her enough.

The events that passed after that were mostly a blur of changing scenery, an ocean of new faces, most of them condemning, and a startling sharp pain pulsing in her hand. The frigid iron snaking around her hands kept her on edge and reduced her ability to respond to the snarky comments of her self-defense mechanism. That part at least she could blame on Varric, the dwarf had always been a bad influence on her people skills. Of course, her father could take a fair share of that blame too.

Her biting wit didn’t do anything to endear her to her captor, and it wasn’t until she’d immediately volunteered to help at the first suggestion that the mark on her hand might be the solution that she’d made any progress. Cassandra’s sharp eyes had softened around the edges slightly, clearly approving of her willingness to help, regardless of her remaining questions and suspicions. She’d even relented to remove the shackles and Solea had thrown them away with no small amount of relief. Breathing deeply and feeling her heart calm for the first time since she’d woken as she ignored the Seeker’s curious look.

The curiosity had only grown as they’d fought their way up the mountain, Solea’s expert use of the two daggers she’d discovered in the rubble drawing the woman’s surprise. Dispatching demons was cathartic in a way for Solea’s growing sense of unease, although she didn’t appreciate the sensation of being appraised and evaluated with every move she made. 

She was as unsure of Cassandra as the Seeker was of her. She wasn’t a templar but there was a similar aura about her, and it sent terror spiking down her spine. It kept her muscles tense and she made sure to keep the Seeker in her sights at all times. She wasn’t going to trust her just because she’d taken the handcuffs off. They could just as easily be put back on. As soon as she was done helping, Solea would take her first opportunity to escape.

The Seeker’s constant surprise at her skill felt a little insulting, she got that she was young but why people always assumed that meant she didn’t know how to fight never ceased to amaze her. It was a dangerous world out there, if you couldn’t fight than you would die. Solea wished that she could use the full breath of her power. If Cassandra thought what she was doing now was impressive, she had another thing coming.

When they’d finally crested a rise in the path, they were greeted by a crackling green rift and a surrounding skirmish of demons and soldiers. The moment she spotted the familiar gleam of golden hair and heard the snapping melody of Bianca’s rapid firing, she’d almost burst into tears and run straight into a demon in her haste to reach him.

Months of worry and searching, wondering what was happening to him and he was finally here. Varric was okay. Only the screeching call of a wraith had interrupted her from sprinting to him right then. She’d waded into the battle with a vengeance, wielding her blades with a fury and slashing through demons as she moved swiftly through the battlefield.

The moment all the demons lay dead, a strange bald elf gripped her left hand and aimed it at the small tear in the sky. The slowly growing pain had suddenly peaked, and she’d felt an instinctual pull connecting the magic in her palm to that in the sky. Giving in, she’d used her own magic to foster the bond, sending energy along it and manifesting a physical pulsing green link between hand and rift.

A sound like a small Gaatlok explosion boomed out, and the rift was sealed in a burst of green tendrils that quickly disappeared. Solea withheld a grimace at the resulting throb, shaking her hand lightly as she clenched her eyes shut. A deep breath, she was still in control. Now was not the time to light up.

“Flicker?” Varric’s open disbelief drew her attention to his approach. 

“Uncle Varric!” Relief at seeing him alive and unharmed flooded her and she threw herself into his arms desperately. He immediately embraced her. Despite being bigger than him, she fit comfortably into the hug. For a moment, her worries eased and the knot of anxiety that had been steadily building in the pit of her stomach unraveled. Here at least, she knew she was safe. She happily inhaled the comforting leathery scent of his coat.

“Uncle?” Cassandra’s utter incredulity startled Solea into laughter as she felt the woman’s eyes darting back and forth between her and Varric. Comparing Solea’s raven black hair to his golden locks, her piercing blue eyes to his warm hazel, her clearly elvish features to his dwarvish.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Varric drew back and like gathering storm clouds anger built in his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here. How did you- What- Why-” He was at a loss for words, another rarity for him and Solea had to bite back a smile at the thought. Varric caught her amusement though.

“Dammit, this is serious, Solea. You shouldn’t be anywhere near here!” He looked frantic. “Do your parents even know you’re here?”

Solea tensed, it was never good when Varric used her actual name. She was careful to betray nothing in her face. It was pointless though, Varric knew her far too well for her to ever successfully lie to him. Before she could even attempt to, he sighed heavily and leaned back against the crumbling remnants of a pillar, running his hands tiredly down his face.

“Shit kid, they’re going to kill me.” Varric seemed to want to say a lot more but his eyes darted over to where Cassandra was listening earnestly to their conversation and he remained quiet. He did shoot her a pointed glare that said they would be having a conversation later, in private.

“I came here to save you!” Solea explained desperately, wanting him to understand. “I wasn’t about to let you be captured and tortured without at least trying to rescue you.” She shot a nasty glare over at the Seeker, who recoiled from the blazing fury in her gaze. Solea smirked, pleased by her reaction, before turning back to Varric.

“Regardless, it doesn’t matter now.” She held up her hand, and the glowing mark that blemished her palm. “I can’t leave now. I’m the only one that can help fix this. I have to do this.”

Varric’s shoulders dropped and she could see the fight leave him as he mumbled. “Dammit. This Hero complex thing has got to be genetic.”


	2. Savior

Waking up was like trying to swim with weights on her ankle. That is to say, it was exhausting. Solea neared the surface of consciousness a few times, floating at the edge where light filtered brightly and she could hear the faint voices of people around her but then the weights pulled her back down as her body fell victim to fatigue.

During the times she was lost in the lightless depths, the Fade conjured up memories of her family, dreams that for once, she had no control of. She dreamt of sitting in her father’s lap as a small child, her clumsy infant fingers tracing the lines of lyrium that marked his tan skin. She looked up at him in wide eyed wonder and he smiled warmly back at her, eyes bright with emotion.

It had been a favorite pastime of hers as a child, she’d tug insistently at his shirt until he took it off so she could trace his markings, marvel at them. She’d always been fascinated by them. It was only much later in her life that she learnt that she was the only one besides her mom that he willingly let do so and why.

She dreamt of the night her parents sent her out of Kirkwall and to the Dalish clan outside the city walls. She remembered stumbling through the dark alleyways of the city, following behind Merrill and clinging to Varric’s coat sleeve as she cried. She’d wanted to wail her anguish for all the city to hear. It was their fault she couldn’t be a normal kid, their fault she couldn’t grow up with her parents, their fault for shoving her mother onto a pedestal, making her both Champion and a target.

Despite her violent rage at the city and sorrow for her fate, Solea kept dutifully quiet. Don’t be heard, don’t be seen, you must be invisible, a passing shadow to others. This was the mantra she’d been raised on and she knew better to raise attention to herself. No one could know she existed, it was safer that way, for everyone. By the time, they caught sight of the first aravel, her eyes were dry and her face blank.

What followed that was a stream of various snapshots of her life growing up. Days spent with Varric out in the forest, challenging each other to archery contests. Nights spent dueling her mother by torchlight or studying with Keeper Marethari about the ways of the Dalish and magic. Laughing wildly as her father tossed her on his shoulders and ran around while she clung to his shock white hair. Though happy, the memories were tinged with the sour taste of her guilt at disobeying her parents and leaving.

When she finally broke free of the surface, Solea lurched upwards, gasping for air. A loud clattering noise drew her attention to an elvish woman who was frozen and staring at her with terror in her eyes and a broken box at her feet. Frantically, Solea looked down at herself but she wasn’t glowing. 

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” The young woman stuttered.

“It’s fine, but where exactly am I? What happened?” Solea cast her gaze about the small cabin as she spoke but found no clues to tell her where she was.

Instead of answering, the woman threw herself at the ground, prostrating herself submissively as she pleaded, “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” When she got no response to this, the elf continued on hastily. “You’re back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days!”

Solea’s growing dread that the woman’s deference meant they’d discovered who her parents were was diminished against the news about her mark. She peered down at her hand, thankfully still covered in a glove, and cast her magic carefully out. Probing gently, she discovered that her mark had indeed ceased creeping up her arm. The pain had stopped as well, she realized with relief, recalling the journey to the Breach.

The closer they’d gotten to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the harder she had to focus on staying in control. Solea felt the weakness of the Veil as they neared the epicenter of the chaos, felt the barrier separating worlds grow paper thin. The temptation to just slip through and disappear pulled at the lines of her body and she had to keep most of her attention on fighting the urge, which severely crippled her fighting abilities.

The good news was when she finally stepped into the Temple interior, that temptation disappeared. The bad news was that it only happened because her mark had erupted into flashing white hot pain as the magic within responded to her proximity to the Breach. She could feel the mark spreading as the magic fought against her for more space on her body.

Then, she’d tried to close the rift at the Breach and that, that had made the previous pain feel irrelevant. It had felt like every cell in her arm was splitting apart and she thought her arm might actually tear apart. Even the memory of it made Solea clench her hand reflexively.

Shaking away her thoughts, Solea realized the elf was staring at her expectantly as if waiting for her to say something. She wasn’t sure what to say but she knew she needed to figure out if anything had been discovered about her while she’d been unconscious for three whole days. She hoped her current covered state meant Varric had been able to keep them from undressing her in their attempts at healing.

“What you said earlier, does that mean…” she recalled the vicious, hateful glares and slurs that had been flung at her as she followed behind the Seeker in chains. “are people pleased? What about the Seeker?”

The woman froze again in fear. Solea wished she’d stop doing that. “Oh my! Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once’! She’s in the Chantry with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once’ she said!” Without another word, she scurried out of the cabin like it was on fire, letting in a sudden gust of cold and a glimpse of snowy banks before the door slammed shut behind her.

Solea sighed into the empty space. She didn’t like the picture the elf had painted of the situation waiting for her. Thankfully, it sounded like the Breach was closed which meant all she had to do was grab Varric and the two of them could slip out of Haven undetected. Her hopes of discretion were dashed the moment she stepped out the cabin door. Dazzling sunlight reflecting off snow blinded her momentarily but the moment her eyes adjusted, she dropped into a crouch, tensing as she reached instinctively for her daggers, which she didn’t have.

There were people _everywhere. _Soldiers lined the path from the door, and more civilians crowded around behind them. And they were all staring at her. No one moved or spoke, they were just staring and slowly, as nothing happened, the fear clouding her mind dissipated. Now she could see that there was only about a hundred people, not the many hundreds they had initially seemed like. The men in armor were not templars, just normal soldiers. They were even saluting her, with fists clenched at their chests.

What the hell was she supposed to do now? She hadn’t planned on going anywhere near Chantry and certainly didn’t want to have any more conversations with the Seeker, but she didn’t appear to have any other options. She started down the pathway stiffly, taking care to stay directly in the middle and maintain as much space as possible between her and the soldiers on either side. All of them seemed to tower over her small frame and she’d never felt so short nor so aware of her age. 

The entire pathway to the Chantry was lined and as she passed people she caught snippets of conversations and whispers from the crowd. The called her the Herald of Andraste, muttered various Andrastian blessings at her, and she had to bite back the urge to scream at them to shut up. She was no blessed idol. Creators, she wasn’t even religious. 

Frustration burned in her gut and her patience was fleeting by the time she reached the massive wooden doors of the Chantry. She was on edge around so many people, tense from constantly scanning the faces around her for threats and innately uncomfortable at having so many people focused on her. Her whole life had been centered around avoiding attention, and this blatant fixation on her was unnerving. She never thought she’d miss being on the run.

The reverent quiet of the Chantry interior was soothing on her frayed nerves and Solea fell back against the doors in relief, closing her eyes. She inhaled the faint scent of wood from the solid surface at her spine. After several deep meditative breaths, Solea felt her calm, along with her control, return and she stepped away from the door.

She was drawn down the hall towards the cacophony of voices that leaked out from behind the shut door at the end of the hall. Clearly there was an argument going on and as she approached she recognized the Seeker’s voice along with the faintly Orlesian accent of the redhead, Leliana. The male voice was as familiar as its scorn for her as it argued for Solea’s arrest. Chancellor Roderick, of course. He was clearly not pleased with her current status as a non-prisoner.

Solea hesitated outside the door. It wasn’t too late, she thought, she could still turn around and leave. She remembered the crowds of people outside and thought of the guards she’d seen posted at the gate out of Haven. There wasn’t going to be an easy exit right now. Her best move was to wait for a better opportunity to present itself; for now, she would brave the situation on the other side of the door.

Decided, she pushed open the door cautiously and the first thing she saw was Leliana and the Seeker standing next to each other beside a large wood table that took up most of the room. At the end of the table, Chancellor Roderick turned to face her, is face bright red as he demanded that the guards, stationed on either side of the doorway, arrest her immediately. Solea dropped straight into a crouch, and yet again grabbed for weapons that she didn’t have but before she could make a move, the commanding tone of the Seeker rang out.

“Disregard that, and leave us.”

Solea immediately dodged far away from the guards who were decked in Templar armor, easily identifiable by the giant sword emblem on the breastplate. Though she couldn’t sense any lyrium in their blood, her heart still raced and she didn’t breathe again until the door had shut firmly behind the guards who clearly cared more about the Seeker’s authority than the Chancellor’s. She felt less on edge with the Chantry guards gone, but Solea still stayed close to the door, ready to escape should the need arise.

Tuning back in to the ongoing argument, Solea caught Leliana’s curious gaze focused on her. There was a sharp intellect in the woman’s eyes that made her uneasy and something told Solea that not only had Leliana noticed her reaction to the guards but that she was analyzing every bit of it as well. Her first instinct was to avert her eyes, avoid attention, but her frustration from earlier had not entirely abated and so she glared back challengingly while noting mentally to keep an eye on the redhead.

Eyes glittering, Leliana broke away first, interjecting into the conversation that Solea realized she should probably pay attention to considering they were talking about her. “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others - or have allies who yet live.” At this, Leliana looked pointedly at the Chancellor who looked aghast.

“_I _am a suspect? But not the prisoner?”

“I heard the voices in the temple.” Cassandra argued. “The Divine called to her for help.”

Chancellor Roderick scoffed. “So her survival, that thing on her hand, is all a coincidence?”

Cassandra shook her head. “Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

Solea laughed out loud, startling everyone in the room who turned to her in surprise. She looked at the Seeker incredulously, “You think your beloved Maker sent me, an elven child, to be your savior?” She chuckled again and remembering the importance of her cover story, added a mumbled. “You shem really are crazy.”

“I will not pretend to understand the will of the Maker but you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.” The resolute faith in the coal dark of the Seeker’s eyes mirrored the steel in her voice it sent shivers down Solea’s spine.


	3. Advisor

Solea had been happily avoiding almost everyone for the last few days, spending most of her time out in the forests surrounding Haven. She joyfully discovered that a little distance and some dense foliage dampened the clamor that arose from within the walled encampment. She basked in the peaceful quiet of nature. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes, she could pretend that she was back in the familiar forests outside Kirkwall.

On one occasion, she was meditating in a small clearing, desperately seeking calm after being startled by a couple templars in the camp. There weren’t many around, which made her job of avoiding them easy, normally. She was cross-legged on the floor, channeling the flow of energy and mana through her body in time with her breathing when she sensed an approaching presence and heard the faintest rustling of movement. 

Her eyes shot open and she turned to see Solas standing frozen just on the edge of the trees surrounding the small clearing. He seemed utterly surprised that she’d noticed his presence which drew a small smile to her face even as she hurried to withdraw her mana.

“I am sorry, Herald. I did not mean to disturb you. I was not expecting anyone else to be out here.”

She waved off his apology, not managing to conceal her cringe at the use of her abhorrent title. Solas was a mystery and his seemingly unending magical knowledge made him a threat to her secret. However, she was drawn by the lure of that same pool of wisdom, but she’d been too busy avoiding everyone in Haven to broach the subject with him. Plus, the elf seemed to enjoy solitude even more than she did.

“Please, call me anything but bloody Herald.” She gestured him forward and then added hesitantly. “Join me, if you wish.”

The elven apostate, to her surprise, nodded and sat himself next to her on the ground, mirroring her pose. They sat in quiet meditation, each in their own minds. An hour passed, and she sensed him adjusting slightly next to her. Seizing the opportunity, she broke the silence and voiced the first question of the many that she’d been dying to ask him.

Solas seemed slightly amused but answered it easily and soon she found the flood of questions pouring out of her mouth. Rather than become annoyed or mocking her childish ignorance, he seemed to genuinely enjoy answering every inquiry she made, regardless of the subject matter. Solea found herself utterly fascinated by his tales of his journeys into the fade and had to bite her tongue to withhold the burning desire to share some of her own experiences with the fade.

Their conversation was ended by the retreating sunlight, but the two elves made their way back to Haven together. Solea’s head was swimming with information. Solas promised her that he was happy to share more with her later and she thanked him eagerly for indulging her curiosity. Privately, she hoped she hadn’t become suspicious about her interest in magic.

The next day, she was having yet another archery contest with Varric when the now familiar heavy footfalls of the Seeker sounded through the trees. Quick as a flash, Solea darted up onto a tree branch, hiding in the shadows near the trunk. She didn’t want any part in whatever it was the Seeker was looking for.

Varric shot her an amused grin before he faced the approaching woman with arms thrown open in exaggerated welcome. “Seeker! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m looking for the Herald. I was told she came out here with you.”

Varric made a show of looking around. “Well, I don’t see her. Perhaps-”

“Enough, dwarf!” The Seeker cut him off, “I don’t have time to play games, we need her in the war room at once. Just tell me where she is!”

Solea sighed, remembering her previous promise to meet with the advisors of the newly formed Inquisition to discuss the next step in stopping the breach. She had hoped she would have more time. Knowing she had no choice, Solea dropped down behind the Seeker without a sound.

“Well then, we best get to it.”

The Seeker shrieked and whirled around with her blade out forcing Solea to duck to avoid being sliced open. Varric chuckled openly and the Seeker’s eyes narrowed in anger. With a huff, she sheathed her sword and marched off back towards Haven, clearly expecting Solea to follow.

Staring at the retreating woman, Solea wondered, “Do you think she ever laughs?” When she got no response from Varric, she glanced at him to find his expression had grown serious. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re supposed to meet the advisors today, right? But you don’t know who any of them are.”

“Well no, that’s the whole point of meeting them.” Solea joked but her smile quickly melted as Varric’s unease set her on edge. “Maker, Varric you’re scaring me. Just tell me what you’re worried about.

“Cullen is one of the advisors.” Varric declared, lacking his usual eloquence.

“No.” Solea froze as horror curdled in her stomach. “No no no…I can’t- I have to leave.” She clutched desperately at the worn red scarf knotted around her arm. “Varric why wouldn’t you tell me this sooner. He can’t meet me, he’ll know!” Her mind was racing, planning escape routes already when Varric went to grab her hand comfortingly only to pull it back with a yelp.

Startled herself, Solea realized electricity was dancing along her arms and she was glowing bright blue as her body responded to her anxiety. She danced away from Varric, apologies tumbling from her lips. Fighting with her emotions she restrained the errant energy as her fingers slid against red fabric. She really wished her parents were here.

“Herald!” The sharp cry of the Seeker’s voice rudely reminded her that she didn’t have the luxury of time.

Varric grabbed her hands reassuringly and as she met his gaze, she saw the hesitation in his face. She could see him reconsidering, ready to tell her that she didn’t have to do this and that he would just whisk her away back to her parents. Back to a place where she wouldn’t have to face templars or old friends of her mother.

Solea couldn’t believe she actually missed life as a fugitive, but anything was better than this startling maze of people and responsibilities. The crackling green fissure on her left hand was a bleak reminder of her reasons for staying. People’s lives, and possibly the fate of the world, depended on her ability to close the Breach. If she didn’t succeed, there would be no life to go back to.

Resigned, she gave Varric a wane smile and reassured him that she would in fact be fine, although he didn’t seem very convinced. Chasing after the Seeker, her stomach churned uneasily at the approaching challenge. She donned the impassive mask she’d perfected to hide her emotions around people she couldn’t trust. It was a trick she’d mastered at a young age, essential for the safety of the Champion’s daughter. 

The Seeker said nothing all the way to the war room for which Solea was grateful. It gave her time to gather her thoughts and steel her nerves. Just before she stepped into the room where the advisors waited, Solea gripped the scarf on her arm once more and took a deep breath. She couldn’t afford a slipup in front of the sharp-eyed Leliana, but she could already sense _his_ presence through the door.

The faint warbling of lyrium was stronger now that she was in the room and she clenched her fists tightly behind her back, hiding their tremble from the occupants of the room. She stepped close enough to the table to not seem rude but not an inch closer. The Seeker wasted no time, heading straight into introductions as she pointed first to the towering blond man.

Cullen Rutherford, leader of the Inquisition’s forces and former Knight-Captain of Kirkwall, was not wearing templar armor. She noted this as something to ask Varric about later. His less formal appearance was only a slight comfort. He still had lyrium in his veins and there was the risk he could recognize her from Kirkwall.

He said nothing but then, to her horror, he offered a hand in greeting. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Herald.”

Nails digging into palms, she barely restrained a flinch and nodded sharply at him. “You as well.” She croaked out through the anxiety lodged in her throat. There was a weighted pause before Cullen lowered his hand with an awkward cough. Solea could feel eyes burning into her but she was barely holding it together as is. Making physical contact was asking too much. Thankfully, Cassandra pushed on and introduced the ambassador Josephine Montilyet, a cheery Antivan woman decked in golden finery. Solea managed a small smile of amusement as Cassandra rather undiplomatically introduced Leliana as the spymaster.

Solea spent the rest of meeting avoiding looking at the templar and doing her best to speed along the conversation. So eager to leave, she didn’t even protest being more or less ordered to journey into the chaos in the Hinterlands and seek out some Chantry woman named Mother Giselle. 

Later, far outside the walls of Haven when she could finally breathe easy again, she fired arrow after arrow into the trees before her while cursing her situation with every colorful swear word she’d ever overheard in The Hanged Man. How in Thedas was she supposed to work with a templar?


	4. Seeker

Solea spent over a month in the Hinterlands representing the Inquisition and trying to quell the embittered war of templars and mages. It was endless days of fighting, running back and forth through the woods performing menial tasks, helping refugees, closing small rifts and constantly being attacked by demons, mages, templars, and even a terrifying run in with a bear.

She was the happiest she’d been since leaving for the Conclave.

At the forward Inquisition camp, Solea had been greeted by a cheery dwarven woman that introduced herself as Chief Scout Harding and informed the elf that she was in charge of the Inquisition scouts in the area. The conversation was brief as Harding gave her a quick rundown of the current situation, but Solea found herself liking the dwarf’s bright disposition. 

After fighting her way through the crossroads, Solea and her party had sought advice of Mother Giselle as they’d been instructed. The Chantry woman had been visibly shocked by Solea’s age, as had most of the people she’d met. Clearly no one had believed the Herald of Andraste was truly as young as they’d been told. To her credit, Mother Giselle recovered quickly and suggested that the smartest move would be to head to Val Royeaux to appeal to members of the Chantry. Even generating the smallest doubts in the Chantry’s condemnation of the Inquisition, she said, would be enough.

Solea and her party had spent the next several weeks doing whatever they could to aid the people living in the war-torn region. Through her deeds the Inquisition gained fame as a force for good in the world, and after weeks trapped in Haven, Solea was glad to be actively working to help people. The work was tiring and the fighting tough, but she threw herself eagerly into the work.

It took two weeks before Varric started giving her knowing looks, and another week after that before she sensed the Seeker catching on. Solas was the only one in the party that didn’t seem to care how long they stayed in the Hinterlands. Solea couldn’t help that she wanted to avoid returning to Haven and the pressure of her title. So, when the Seeker asked when the Inquisition would be ready to journey to Val Royeaux, Solea snapped.

“We will leave when I say.” Striding angrily away from the campfire where they’d been gathered, Solea curled into her bedroll without another word to anyone.

A couple days later, Solea was forced to relent. Forced to handicap herself and fight with no magic or powers, she was exhausting herself in battle both physically and mentally as she adapted her fighting style. A stupid mistake against some bandits, led to a dagger in her shoulder and she spent two days asleep as her exhausted body struggled to heal itself. The moment she awoke, Varric demanded if she was so eager to die just to stay away from Haven and a chagrined Solea organized the journey home. A couple days later and she was headed to Val Royeaux, once again accompanied by the Seeker, the elven apostate and her protective dwarven shadow.

* * *

“That went well.” Varric muttered as they walked past the grand marble statues that flanked the pathway out of the Summer Bazaar. His concerned gaze tracked the rigid back of the teenager in front of him. 

Solea’s fists were clenched and rage boiled in her gut. Before the conclave, she’d never had to worry so much about maintaining control. The situations she’d faced in the last couple months were proving to be the harshest tests against the tranquil nature she used to pride herself on. She was beginning to understand why her mother always said she took more after her father in temper. She was barely restraining the urge to scream in frustration.

Varric knew better than to try and talk to her when she was this upset but unfortunately her other companions didn’t know her as well.

“Are you alright?” Cassandra inquired abruptly.

Solea whirled about in a fury. “I just got called a naïve little child with delusions of grandeur by the head of _your_ order in front of all the people I was hoping to garner support from.” She felt Varric nudge her arm slightly in warning and she paused to suck in a calming breath, reigning in her emotions by sheer willpower alone. 

She wasn’t angry at the Seeker for what had happened. She was mostly frustrated with people’s idiotic need to play politics and ignore the world-ending threat in front of their faces. Plus, the continuing reminder that no one would take her seriously because of her age yet demanded she be responsible for saving the world was absolutely infuriating.

Continuing in a quieter yet still noticeably sharp tone she said, “In the last hour I’ve been insulted, sent a message by way of fired arrow, invited to a ridiculously inappropriate ball, and approached by the leader of the mage rebellion with an offer of alliance shrouded in as many stipulations as Varric has chest hairs.”

Solea took another deep breath. “Regardless, we need to get back to Haven so we can figure out what do next. Creators know I haven’t a clue what our next step should be.”

“If I may make a suggestion.” Solas said, “The location given by these so called ‘Friends of Red Jenny’ is nearby. Perhaps we should address that before we head back to Haven.”

“Great idea.” Solea nodded, “The letters hinted at trouble.” She twirled one of her blades in her hand. The familiar grip was comforting in her palm. “I could use a good fight.”

* * *

“I will not go fishing for an alliance with the Templars.”

The three Inquisition advisors and Cassandra stood frozen at the vitriolic disgust in her voice. They had never heard Solea speak with such emotion. She was normally quiet during war meetings, always unsure of why they required her attendance and felt vastly unqualified to be making any serious decisions about the Inquisition.

The advisors had approached Solea and Cassandra the moment they walked through the Chantry doors in Haven. Solea’s surprise at the appearance was overshadowed by a startling discovery she had about an unforeseen consequence of her time in the Hinterlands. Weeks of fighting against templars and the forced proximity that her fighting style required had lessened her fear of them.

She still clung nervously to the scarf on her arm, an unconscious nervous tic, but despite being within a dozen feet of Cullen, her body wasn’t pushing her to flee the room immediately. However, being able to remain in the same room as a retired templar because she absolutely had to was one thing; she would not be going anywhere near an entire fortress of the holy warriors. On this, she would not budge.

Josephine and the Seeker seemed mostly surprised at her outburst; this was the first time she’d actively protested against something they’d suggested. Leliana was analyzing her reaction, as always, but Cullen seemed genuinely angered by her refusal to even consider approaching the Templars for aid.

Normally of a calm demeanor, the man’s eyes were steely. “You think the mage rebellion is more united? They could be ten times worse.”

“What I think, is that the Lord Seeker has lost his grip on his sanity.” Solea clenched her hands behind her back. “What I know is that the Templars have abandoned their posts. I know that the mages approached us. And I know who I would trust to have my back.”

The former Templar flinched back from her harsh words and, suddenly exhausted, Solea declared with finality. “You want to label me the Herald of your sacred Andraste and demand I attend war meetings and be the face of the Inquisition? Well this is what you get. Either I have the power to make decisions, or I don’t.”

Taut as a bowstring, she marched out of the Chantry and back into the swirling winter winds. Despite only just returning, she strode back out the large wooden gates and into the forest to seek solitude and hopefully, some manner of calm.


	5. Magister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!!

“Herald, it appears you require the services of _my_ mages.” The snide voice managed to inject a significant amount of distaste into Solea’s unwanted title while still being polite. She would have been impressed if she hadn’t been too distracted by the ridiculous outfit the middle-aged man was wearing. She assumed the sharp points of the hooded monstrosity of a robe the man was supposed to be intimidating. To her it seemed as if the seamstress hadn’t known what do with the extra fabric and had just thrown it on wherever.

The man’s accent, along with the stories she’d heard on her approach to the quaint tavern located in the shadow of Redcliffe castle, told her he hailed from the Tevinter Imperium. His pompous air, arrogant tone, and the potent magic she sensed in his veins, told her that this man was a Magister. Her gut told her that he played some part in this messy situation that she was only beginning to scratch the surface of. 

Why couldn’t anything in her life ever be easy?

“Magister Gereon Alexius, at your service.”

“Solea…S-Sabrae.” She returned the introduction using the pseudonym that fit her cover story as a simple Dalish elf from the clan that had spent almost a decade in the lands outside Kirkwall. It was risky to be associated with the city at all, given her fear that someone might recognize her from her resemblance to her mother. However, given how obvious her close relationship with Varric was, they’d decided a story that was closer to the truth would be easier to maintain.

Her unfamiliarity with the name made her stumble over the words and she caught Alexius smirking condescendingly at her. 

“I believe you came here to negotiate acquiring the assistance of the mages now in my possession?” He gestured for her to sit at a nearby table. “Shall we begin?”

Solea spent the following conversation with her hands hidden under the table, red fabric gripped tightly in her fingers. However, as much as she despised the Magister’s arrogant and patronizing demeanor, she was grateful for it. Most strangers she met, both recently and throughout her life, saw a short, youthful elven girl and immediately assumed she was harmless. Her mother had taught her from a young age to take advantage of this in fights and Varric had taught her how to use it to her advantage in conversation.

The closer she got to adulthood, however, the more she came to resent people’s constant dismissal of her. Especially from a man such as this, who spoke of the former Circle mages as if they were simply objects in his possession on which a price was to be haggled not living beings who’d suffered greatly of late. She knew slave trade was rampant in Tevinter, but being confronted blatantly with the utter disregard for human life was horrifying.

Solea was thankful when their negotiations were interrupted by a gaunt-faced young man stumbling into her. Quick reflexes ensured she caught him before he fell, grunting slightly from his weight. They also ensured that she caught the note he slipped subtly into her hand and, with a sleight of hand perfected from a lifetime spent around rogues, ensured it was hidden into her pocket without notice.

Solea was surprised to see genuine concern as Alexius helped steady his son, Felix, and then made promises to continue their negotiations later before abruptly leaving the tavern, followed by Fiona and the guards he’d brought with him. In moments, silence rang out in the flickering lamplight and Solea fingered the note in her pocket thoughtfully.

“What a revolting man.” Cassandra commented bluntly.

Solea hummed in agreement before unfolding the paper note which read simply: ‘Come to the Chantry. You are in danger’. How mysterious, she thought, while feeling pleased - it was so nice when people made things easy. She loved when she had a clear direction to head in.

* * *

Varric’s fingers itched with the desire to feel the sturdy wood of Bianca’s comforting weight. Everything about this situation was discomforting to the dwarf, whose desire to drag Solea back to her parents rose with every passing day. The kid was going to send him to an early grave at the rate she managed to dive into dangerous situations with an ease he’d only ever seen replicated by her mother.

At least Hawke had been a grown woman when they’d met, and he’d been less worried about her ability to take care of herself. He’d known Solea since she was just a few days old, nothing more than a tuft of ebony hair and flickering blue eyes peeking out from a bundle of blankets. He’d been lost the moment her tiny grasping fingers had latched onto his finger.

Despite a recent growth spurt that left her nearing her father’s height, Solea would forever remain the small toddler that had spent evenings in his room at The Hanged Man, listening raptly as he spun wonderous tales of heroic journeys and epic battles. It was this same child that he longed to shelter away from the politics she’d been dragged into, far saway from the ulterior motives of people who wanted to use her for their own gain.

Varric remained alert he watched the young Hawke bandy words with the Magister. She appeared confident and calm although he could see her mother’s red scarf clenched tightly behind her back. It was a new nervous tic he’d noticed recently, and once again he felt his ire rise. It’d take him less than two seconds to draw Bianca and fire an arrow between Alexius’ eye. Then he wouldn’t have to listen to another moment of the arrogant man talking down to his godchild. 

The dwarf’s attention was drawn away from his young charge with the former Grand Enchanter interrupted the conversation to argue against being cut out from the negotiations. The Magister shot the elven mage a disgusted look, clearly displeased about the interruption.

“Fiona, you would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.” He motioned casually for two guards to escort the woman out of the great hall but before they made it two steps before Solea’s voice rang out.

“I see no harm in allowing her to stay.” She shrugged with feigned carelessness. “She at least deserves to hear the negotiations take place.”

Alexius conceded this and motioned the guards back. Varric felt his chest warm with pride as he watched the young elf navigate the conversation and hide her disgust for the Magister while they waited for the signal from Leliana’s agents. 

It wasn’t nearly as long as he expected before he saw Solea’s ears twitch slightly and he saw her stance shift slightly as her hands readied to draw her weapons. The change was only obvious to someone who knew her well and Varric himself shifted, readying to draw Bianca if necessary. He sensed both the Seeker and Solas tensing slightly beside him.

At the same time, Alexius seemed to tire of the negotiations that Solea had been leading in circles to bide time. In exasperation he exclaimed, “Simply put: the Inquisition needs mages to close the Breach. I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?”

Solea gave an exaggerated sigh, glancing back at Varric. “And here I thought stopping the end of the world was reward enough.” She turned back to Alexius. “Pray tell, what exactly do I have to offer the Venatori?” 

Alexius looked stunned at this and before he could respond Felix stepped forward. “She knows everything, Father.”

“Felix, what have you done?”

Solea quickly curbed the Magister’s rising anger. “He was only worried about you. He thinks you’ve become involved in something terrible.”

“So speaks the naïve thief.” Alexius burst up from the throne he’d been lounging in. Varric caught spittle flying from his mouth as he spoke. “You think you can turn my son against me? You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark – a gift you don’t even understand – and think you’re in control? You are nothing but a mistake.”

Varric flinched at his choice of words but although he could see Solea’s rising ire, the young Hawke’s curiosity seemed to win out. He was grateful to see her maintaining control of her temper and her powers despite the situation.

“If you’re so omniscient, do enlighten me about the mark on my hand.” She flourished her left hand before her, but her right fist remained hidden, clenched as if she could physically restrain her temper. 

Varric sent silent prayers for Leliana’s agents to hurry up and scanned around the throne room for signs that the trap would soon spring. He did not like the tension he sensed in the girl’s body and was worried for the consequences if she did lose control.

Thankfully, Dorian – Felix’s friend and their new ally – emerged, sending Alexius reeling back in surprise yet again. The elder Magister soon began ranting about how he had to save his son and rambled on about a lot of things that sounded to Varric like nonsensical cult brainwashing. He tuned out the raving and focused on tracking the movements of the Inquisition agents out of the corner of his eyes.

Alexius demanded his guards attack Solea just as the last of his entourage was taken out by Leliana’s spies. Varric breathed a sigh of relief as they were surrounded by their own people and the danger of the situation was ended. There would be no need for Bianca after all.

Alexius gave a cry of rage at his failure but instead of surrendering as Solea demanded, he gestured wildly at her, his hand crackling with green magic. Dorian cried out, sending a counterattack of golden light that struck the older man just as he released his spell and suddenly a crackling green portal exploded into existence, splitting the very air as it emerged.

Varric had a split second to register his surprise before, like a whirlpool, the portal sucked both Solea and Dorian forward. The two disappeared with a brilliant verdant flash. The portal boomed with a burst of green lightening and then it snapped shut, leaving nothing but an empty room before him. 

Solea was gone.


	6. Time Traveler

The portal spat Solea out somewhere with a sturdy stone floor flooded with water that reflected the harsh red glare of the lanterns. More than that she couldn’t tell as she lay gasping where she’d fallen onto all fours. Her stomach rolled and cramped in protest and every cell in her body ached with the wrongness of her unplanned magical journey. Whatever had happened was too unnatural for even her to handle.

She was still fighting the urge to vomit into the water that soaked her limbs when a strong arm tugged her to her feet.

“We’ve got company.” A familiar voice cautioned, and only then did she realize she was not alone. Dorian had been pulled through the portal with her. More problematically, two men in full plate armor had run into the room, hesitating only a moment to exclaim in utter surprise before charging forward with swords drawn.

Dorian immediately released Solea to engage one of the guards. She stumbled slightly without his support; her previous nausea being replaced by a pounding headache. Her heart raced and she was uncomfortably conscious of every pulse of blood through her body; feeling the lure of the power in her veins just waiting to be summoned. A faint melody tickled at the back of her mind, just brushing at the edge of her hearing.

The second guard let out a fierce battle cry as he approached. Fighting the pain, Solea tried to neatly dodge the swing of his blade but was hindered by the water she stood in and fell backwards instead. Her back slammed into a rock solid, but surprisingly warm, wall and her body erupted in flames. Every cell was on fire, her blood raced in an inferno that spread the raging heat to her extremities. Despite the strict layering of clothes she wore to conceal her skin, every piece of her that was in contact with the wall at her back was in agony.

Solea screamed, throwing herself forward from the wall and collapsing into the water that offered no relief from the pain. The moment she broke contact with the wall, the pain lessened. She had a moment of relief before she was yanked up and restrained by metal arms. She’d completely forgotten about the guard that had been attacking her.

Disoriented, she thrashed wildly but her arms were pinned, and she couldn’t escape. She was trapped, restrained against cold metal armor with the sharp musical hum of lyrium taunting her mind. All logical thought fled, and she panicked. Hysterical with the need to be free, Solea summoned her magic to her for the first time since the Conclave. 

There was no finesse or control, only the all-consuming desire for freedom that had her lashing out blindly with her power. A wave of electric force exploded out from her body, bathing the room in blindingly white light. The arms trapping her were flung back so sharply that she heard the sharp crack of broken bones just before the man rocketed away from her, the force of her attack sending him slamming into the far wall. He slapped against the stone with a sickening smack and his body fell to the ground unmoving.

Falling to the floor, Solea crawled in a daze through the water away from the burning wall that had scorched her. She was desperate for safety and petrified that someone else would come to cage her once more. Her mind was running purely on base instinct, logic thrust aside as her adrenaline-fueled brain focused on survival above anything else. From birth, she’d been taught that her greatest defense was staying hidden, going unnoticed by all. It had been pounded into her head by both her parents. You disappeared the moment you enemy gave you the chance.

Clinging to this rule, Solea called upon the power in her blood, letting the lyrium-infused cells glow with power as she pulled the Fade around her to hide beneath it as one might hide behind a curtain. Suddenly, the niggling music that had taunted her grew louder, obnoxiously louder, until her ears ached, and her head pounded. It was a siren song of ethereal beauty that called to her, promising unlimited power if she just gave in. 

Solea was bewildered by the increased noise and lost her hold on her power, flickering back into visibility. A tall figure in front of her yelped in surprise at her appearance and she flinched back, her hands wreathed in electricity as she raised them in defense. It only took a moment for her to recognize Dorian, wearing a face of complete bewilderment.

“I hope you’re aware that you are glowing.”

The comment was so unexpected that it startled a slightly hysterical laugh from Solea. No longer feeling threatened, she dismissed the electricity with a wave of her fingers. Calming down the rest of her was less simple. Her mind and body were severely off-kilter and she felt as if she’d been thrown through another portal. Closing her eyes, she took deep meditative breaths, practicing the calming techniques her father had taught her. It took nearly five minutes but finally she reigned in her power and when she was sure she was no longer glowing or crackling with lightning, she opened her eyes.

Dorian was leaning against the wall near her watching her in fascination. He looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, “No one ever told me you were a mage.”

“Yes, well, no one is supposed to know.” Trying to avoid more questions, she examined the room they had been sent to. Solea realized that it wasn’t lit by red lanterns as she had thought but by the enormous crystal shards of red lyrium that erupted from the ground. One of which had been the ‘wall’ she’d slammed into. She vaguely remembered encountering the stuff at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, but she had been preoccupied by closing the Breach. Now, she was drawn forward, by more than just curiosity, and approached one of the crystals. Her blood pulsed with increased fervor the closer she got.

“What are you doing?” Dorian pushed off from the wall. “Do you think that’s wise?”

Solea shushed him and reached out to touch the red lyrium. She could feel something calling to her, urging her to reach forward. The same haunting chorus was singing once more. Her hand made contact with the warm smooth surface and the fiery pain from before erupted. This time should could feel the red lyrium seeking entrance, looking for a weakness and slamming against her body like waves against the cliffs. It wanted in, and the sheer power behind it was staggering.

Abruptly, she was ripped backwards, and the pain stopped with the breaking of physical contact. Lungs heaving, she watched the blue lyrium glow fade from her veins and just for a moment, she swore the tips of her fingers glowed with a purplish tinge. Shaking the thought away, Solea turned to face a now concerned looking mage.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t try to touch the strange red stuff again, hmm?” Dorian commented dryly.

“I guess not.” Solea’s mind raced with questions but for now she satisfied herself with the knowledge that she should avoid the stuff at all costs. She did her best to ignore the alluring melody still tickling the back of her brain and focused on Dorian’s earlier comment. She had to convince him not to share her secret. She’d worked too hard to hide it.

“Please, Master Pavus, I’d be grateful if you’d keep my status as a mage a secret. It is not knowledge I’d like to get out. I’ve got enough problems to deal with without adding running from templars to the mix.” She lifted her marked left hand as evidence, hoping to appeal to his empathy. Based on her assessment of the man, she didn’t think threatening him to silence was the best method of persuasion, but she would do it if she had to.

Dorian hesitated only a moment before smiling reassuringly. “I have no desire to see a fellow mage put in chains. But you have to call me Dorian.”

“Deal.” They shook on it. “Now where exactly are we and how do we get back? It looks like we’re still somewhere in the castle.”

“Yes, it’s probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us…to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?” He walked around the room, paying extra attention to the area in where they’d emerged from the portal, as he thought aloud. Much of what he mumbled didn’t make a ton of sense to Solea whose magical education had been more practical than theoretical.

“If we’re still in the castle. It isn’t…” Dorian exclaimed suddenly in triumph. “Of course! It’s not simply where – it’s when.” He turned to Solea eagerly. “Alexius used the amulet as a focus. He moved us through time.”

“We traveled through time?” Solea struggled to grasp the idea as questions flooded her mind. “Forwards or backwards? How far?” They had to get back as soon as possible.

“Those are excellent questions. We’ll have to explore further to find out, won’t we? Let’s look around, see where the rift took us. Then we can figure out how to get back…if we can.”

She shuddered at the very idea that they might be stuck in the past or the future. She would never get to apologize to her parents for running off without telling them. The last thing she’d done before slipping away in the night was accuse them both of not caring about Varric enough to look for him. She didn’t want a fight to be the last memory she had of them.

She cast the thoughts aside, they would not help to find a solution to the problem. There was nothing to do now but move forward. Mustering herself, Solea led the way out of the room and into the network of stone tunnels that compromised the underground levels of the castle. 

Red lyrium sprouted sporadically through the stone and Solea flinched away from them all in pain. Thankfully, Dorian only glanced at her in concern and did not voice the questions she was sure he had. Instead, he chose to comment on the dreadful, in his opinion, change in decoration compared to his previous foray in the castle.

Other than Dorian’s sarcastic remarks, the hallways they wandered were silent. There was no sign of life anywhere. It made her uneasy and she instinctively stepped silently with her daggers held at the ready. Unfortunately, her mage companion did not possess the same predilection for stealth and every noisy step he made echoed off the cold stone blocks, making Solea wince.

One door opened to reveal a cavern over which a bridge of metal grates split into three directions, connecting to doors on the left and right while the path straight ahead had a drawbridge that was raised high, blocking that route. There was a Venatori standing guard at each of the two accessible doors who charged forwards so soon as Solea stepped into the room.

Solea raised her daggers but stood still, ready to let Dorian have a chance to attack them from a distance before she traded blades with them. She could feel him gathering magic for an attacked when a realization struck her. There was no reason to hold back anymore. Dorian already knew she was a mage. She was free to use every skill at her disposal to dispatch the two warriors who charged her.

A wicked grin split her face a moment before she slipped into the Fade and dashed forward. This time she was prepared for the increased volume from the singing red lyrium. Ignoring it, she exited the fade step just behind the first guard, her long hair whipping wildly as she spun around and slipped a dagger into the gap in his armor just beneath his helmet. She yanked the blade out and twirled to face the other Venatori, who ducked a fireball sent his way courtesy of Dorian. 

Channeling electricity through her blades she used one dagger to turn aside the sword arcing towards her; crackling blue energy lept down the man’s weapon as soon as it made contact with hers. The shock was just strong enough to paralyze him for the split second it took her to drive her other blade straight into his heart, the white-hot current lacing the blade making a mockery of the chainmail.

The battle was over in seconds, silence ringing out in the cavernous room once more. Blood pumping, Solea felt more at ease than she had in months. The freedom to let loose on her powers was alarmingly pleasurable and despite the situation, she felt like the stress and tension that had been weighing her down had disappeared. She realized that she needed to find a more extensive stress relief than firing arrows into the trees outside Haven. For now, they needed to find a way out of here.

“Have a preference?” She gestured to either of the accessible doors in the room.

Dorian gestured to the door whose frame had been pierced by a cluster of red lyrium crystals. “This one feels particularly inviting, don’t you think?”

“Indeed.” Solea smirked and then led the way through their chosen door, determined to discover _when_ they were and how they could get back to the timeline they’d left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to see what exactly Solea is capable of, even if its just a taste. Clearly she inherited some tricks from both parents :) Took me awhile to be happy with how her powers were described and I'd love to know what you think of her abilities or her reaction to the red lyrium. Much like in the game, this stuff will play a big role in this story and (fun fact) the idea of how someone like Fenris (or Solea) might react to red lyrium was the inspiration for this story.
> 
> Sorry for the abrupt end to this chapter but it got a bit away from me and I didn't want it to be too long. Going to try and get the second half of this quest done in the next chapter or so.


	7. Dungeon Master

Solea and the Seeker weren’t close to being friends. She still resented the woman for stealing Varric away, but she had a grudging respect for the woman and both her stalwart dedication to duty and her skill in battle. From the moment Solea had awaken after the conclave, the Seeker had been a rock in the storm, never relenting and always pushing forwards against whatever stood before her. Solea didn’t realize how much she come to rely on that steadfast nature until she saw the woman collapsed against a wall in a cell. Fatigue was evident in her posture and her voice.

“Nothing you do can help me now. I’ll be with the Maker soon.” Solea wanted to protest but she could feel the red lyrium eating away at the Seeker’s body and see it glittering in her eyes. Finding out from Fiona that she and Dorian had been sent a year into a future ruled by Alexius’ master, some self-proclaimed god called the Elder One, had been startling. But seeing the broken Seeker added a dose of reality to the situation.

“We can fix this.” Solea said desperately. “Alexius sent us forward in time, but Dorian says if we find his amulet we can return to the present.”

“Go back in time?” Cassandra stood up. “Then…can you make it so none of this ever took place?” As she described the events that had occurred since Solea and Dorian’s disappearance, Solea was relieved to see a spark of determination grow in the Seeker’s eyes despite the woman’s doubtful tone.

Solea didn’t know how they would stop the assassination of the Orlesian empress or fight off a demon army, but she knew now was not the time to voice this concern. “We will stop all that from happening. I promise.” She offered a hand to pull the Seeker to her feet, wincing internally as she felt the sting from the red lyrium in Cassandra’s body.

The trio set forth, scanning the cells around them in case any more of them were occupied. Solea was surprised that they didn’t run into anymore guards. Maybe they thought the red lyrium was a sufficient security method. 

They found Solas in the room just next to Cassandra’s, standing with his back to the bars of his cell. His entire body was shrouded in an aura of crackling red light no doubt a result of the red lyrium that he shared his cell with. The mage spun around upon hearing their approach but didn’t seem to believe what he was seeing.

“You’re alive? We saw you die.”

“I got better.” Solea shrugged, focusing on unlocking the door as she let Dorian explain more. She was comforted to see that Solas appeared less affected by the red lyrium. Besides his red aura and the slight warping of his voice, he seemed no different from when she’d left him in Redcliffe Castle. She could really use his level-headed wisdom right about now.

“This world is an abomination. It must never come to pass.” Like the Seeker, Solas seemed to be revitalized to learn that this future could be prevented. “I will help however I can.” Solea was disappointed when, after learning he had nothing new to share about the last year, Solas dropped back to walk quietly beside Cassandra. She’d hoped he would have more advice, but he seemed just as lost as they were and, like the Seeker, talking seemed to be a painful endeavor.

“Solea, over here.” They’d been searching through more cells when Dorian’s voice drew her to the corner of the room where he stood in front of an occupied cell. She recognized the compact frame on the floor instantly, her stomach dropping.

“Uncle Varric!” Not waiting for Dorian to pull out the keys, she sent a ball of energy at the lock. The metal door exploded inwards, ricocheting off the stone wall with an echoing clang and almost smacking Solea as she rushed into the cell.

“Andraste’s sacred knickers! Flicker, you’re alive.” Varric caught her with a grunt, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “Where were you? How did you escape?” The dwarf’s voice was gruff and he was slow to release her as his eyes traced her form as if reassuring himself that she was really there.

“That portal we got sucked into sent us forward in time.” Solea gripped his arms reassuringly, ignoring the pain from the red lyrium that was poisoning his body. She felt a knot of anger form beneath her breast as she saw the telltale red veins framing his eyes which glowed an unnatural red, masking his usual hazel.

“Everything that happens to your family is weird.” Solea was relieved to see Varric’s humor was untouched, though she wasn’t sure there was anything that could dampen it.

“Maybe it’s just a result of hanging out with you too much.”

Varric chuckled, “So, what’s the plan? There must be a reason you came back, besides trading quips with me.”

“We get to Alexius, and I just might be able to send us back to our own time. Simple, really.” Dorian explained helpfully.

Varric chuckled again, “You and I have very different definitions of the word simple.” A rarely seen anger darkened the dwarf’s features. “You want to take on Alexius? I’m in.”

Solea was struck by the realization that this Varric was not the same dwarf she’d last seen in the throne room of the castle. She wanted desperately to ask what had happened to him but there was no time to stop and talk. A part of her was too scared to know. All of the companions they’d rescued had been quick to share about the state of the world, but none had been forthcoming about their own experiences, though it was clear it hadn’t been easy.

* * *

The longer they roamed the infested castle, the more Solea felt her energy drain, but she plodded on relentlessly as she remained silent, focusing on fighting her internal battle. Her solemn mood had spread to the rest of the party as they found Leliana in the castle torture chambers. Intimidating enough normally, Leliana struck a horrifying visage with her gaunt face, naught more than skin pulled taut over bone. Her normally bright, fiery orange hair was dull and lifeless as it fell across her brow, and there were clear patches of missing clumps. The rest of her body was completely clothed but singed holes and bloody tears in the fabric hinted at the damage beneath. If that wasn’t enough, her harsh words had dampened the mood further. The spymaster had cared little for explanations or promises to set things right and she cut Dorian off sharply as he tried to explain their plan.

“Enough! This is all pretend to you. Some future you hope will never exist.” There was a sharp, furious glint to her eyes that frightened Solea. “I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real.” Leliana grabbed a discarded bow and quiver of arrows, slinging the latter onto her back while testing the string of the bow. “Alexius is in the throne room, but first there is one stop we must make.” She exited the room without another word.

Solea was so stunned by the woman’s words that she was the last to leave the room, trailing at the back of the group as Leliana lead them further into the torture chambers. She appeared confident in her direction until she stopped in front of a room whose door looked exactly like that of the room in which she’d been held in. Nocking an arrow, Leliana kicked the door in and swept into the room. She was followed swiftly by Dorian, Varric, Cassandra and Solas.

Solea was just stepping through the threshold when she heard various exclamations of surprise and suddenly Varric was in front of her, trying to push her back out the room. Startled, she fell back a step as he desperately tried to cover her view of the room. Solea had long since overcome the dwarf’s short stature however and she peered through where the others had gathered around a table in the middle of the room. She couldn’t see much more than a body strapped to the table and the telltale glow of red lyrium.

“Varric, stop. What’s the matter?” Solea couldn’t understand what had upset her uncle. Then, at her exclamation, Dorian turned around and gave her a clear view of the victim’s head, and the achingly familiar white hair.

“Papa.” Confused recognition pulled the word from her tongue at a whisper. For a moment, the world was still and silent, as if all noise, movement, color, and even time itself, had been sucked from the room. Life seemed to stick on that moment for an eternity, as the blood froze in her veins.

She didn’t realize she had moved until she was standing at the table in the middle of the room and the world shattered into motion once more. Light, sound, motion and more flooded her senses as her heart raced into motion again. She wasn’t sure if she’d run or fade stepped across the distance and she didn’t care. 

Her father was pinned to the table by simple leather straps, and she would have thought that a foolish mistake on the Venatori’s part if she hadn’t been able to see the rest of him. Clad only in a worn pair of cloth breeches, the lyrium markings that branded Fenris’ flesh from chin to feet were exposed for all to see. The swirling patterns were as familiar to Solea as her own two hands and she could have traced them in her sleep, but they had been corrupted. Instead of blue, the lyrium blazed a tainted red and in some places, she could see solid crystals sprouting grotesquely into his flesh. 

His emaciated body was deadly still on the table, with more resemblance to a cadaver prepped for dissection than a living being. Ragged scars and barely healed wounds marked his entire body, covered in dried blood and grime. For a single heart-stopping moment, Solea feared he was dead but then she saw his chest expand slightly as he breathed. She shook his face desperately in her hands.

Fenris’ eyes flew open and Solea flinched back in surprise. His eyes were nothing but two solid, glowing red orbs that crackled with every darting movement they made. She felt tears leak down her face as he cringed away from her touch, curling as far away as possible in his restraints.

“Papa, it’s me.” Knowing better than to touch him again, she busied her hands by cutting him free of the straps keeping him tied down. She had to bite her lip to fight the urge to help him sit up and then stand. She’d never in her life thought she’d consider her father to be fragile.

“Lea? Is that you?” His head darted around as he spoke, as if searching for her. Fenris’ voice was twisted and distorted into something guttural and grating. It reminded her of the unearthly red lyrium music. “You mother and I- we…we thought you died.” 

“It’s me, papa.” Solea was standing right in front of him and he finally faced her fully as she spoke. Staring at his solid red eyes, tears clouding her vision, she realized he couldn’t see her and bit back a sob. She could only think of one thing to convince him it was actually her. The phrase her family used whenever they had to leave each other. It was a shortened version of the farewell her mother first told her in Kirkwall, when they had to leave her with Varric or someone else to go on a quest. Clearing her throat of tears, she said, “Not in your eyes.”

His face immediately softened, and he finished the phrase slowly. “But always in my heart.” Then, she was in his arms and she felt safe again. He hugged her like he never wanted to let her go again. Her father’s embrace was a comfort she hadn’t had in months, but the feel of his bony arms and the taunt of the red lyrium in his body ignited a rage in her heart.

A significant absent occurred to her and she pulled away to ask, “Where’s mother?”

Fenris flinched. “She’s dead.” He let the phrase hang for a moment before continuing, “We came as soon as we heard you’d disappeared but by then the castle was already overrun. She died while we were trying to fight our way inside through hordes of demons.” His body flickered red with his rage. “I would have died too but Alexius stopped them from killing me. I was brought down here instead…an experiment.”

Solea felt like she’d been sucker punched as every bit of air was sucked from her lungs. She heard Varric cry out somewhere behind her as she collapsed against the table, feeling weak on her legs. Her mother couldn’t be dead, it wasn’t possible. The famed Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, did not die. She was as invincible and enduring as the sun. 

But her father did not lie, and his face bespoke of a grief too strong for words. He did not try and comfort her or offer soothing words and as she took in the exhausted set to his battered body, she wondered. Before the hellish year of torture and corruption he’d suffered had destroyed his body, it was her mother’s death, she thought, so shortly after her own presumed one, that had broken him first.

After finding her father tortured and beaten, Solea did not need more grave words from Leliana to push her forward. She stalked forward with a single relentless purpose. At times the ball of grief tightened her lungs and made it hard to breathe. Her mind conjured horrid images of her mother being torn apart by demons or her father being brutally tortured on a table. She almost cried in relief when they stumbled upon another rift on their way to the throne room.

Fighting was a welcome distraction as it forced her mind to focus on nothing else. She threw herself into battle with a fury. Her rescued companions wielded stolen weapons with no meager skill and Dorian was impressive with his magical skill, but she didn’t give them much work. She refused to give the enemy another opportunity to hurt them, darting from opponent to opponent like a whirlwind. 

When the demons had been slain, she discovered that rifts in this time were much harder to close than she’d been used to. The Veil had been shredded almost to non-existence and it was much harder to coax the fabric of the Fade to bind itself together once more. Sealing rifts had never been a painless affair but by the time she finished, her left arm from the elbow down was aching. Like the fighting however, the pain gave her focus. It chased away her grief and the music and she welcomed it.

They fought through several more rifts and groups of Venatori guards and mages before finally reaching the door to the throne room. Only to find it locked shut. Solea yelled and threw her dagger at it in a fit of rage. She wanted to go home. She wanted to escape this castle of horrors and crystals that sang, of dead mothers and scarred fathers. Anything was better than this living nightmare and here was yet another obstacle in her way. It felt as if she’d been trapped in the castle for weeks and she couldn’t bear another delay.

Dorian walked up to the door to investigate and Solea felt her father walk up next to her and lay a comforting arm around her shoulders. Despite the spark of pain the contact caused, she leaned into the embrace. She’d been worried he wouldn’t be able to walk at all when they first found him, but he ran and fought as well as the others, moving with an almost feral intent in his movements. Watching the familiar style of her father’s fighting had been a small relief for Solea’s nerves.

Now father and daughter stood side by side, matching auras of red and blue light burning from their bodies. Solea had long since lost the energy to control her own lyrium and there was no reason to hide it. She needed it especially for fighting now that she was limited to the one dagger in her right hand. Sealing all the rifts they’d discovered had torn at the mark on her left hand as she’d been forced to channel more and more of her magic through it. Now a constant, pulsating agony radiated all the way up to her shoulder. It felt like a Qunari had taken a hammer to every inch of skin and the muscles in her arm tightened in cramps periodically. She could still move the arm if she needed to but the fine motor control required to grip her dagger was lost to her.

“I’ve got good and bad news.” Dorian admitted. “Good news is we can open this door. Bad news is we’re going to need four more shards of specially made red lyrium shards like this.” He showed them the strange crystal they’d found on the body of one of the mages they’d killed in the room. “And I doubt they’re going to just be lying around.”

Around her, Solea could hear various mutterings of despair from the other party members but she stared at the door thoughtfully. She did not want to spend hours searching further into side rooms of the castle hunting down these shards. “So, the shards act as enchanted keys, right?”

Dorian nodded. “As far as I can determine, yes. The door will only open if all shards are put into the slots.”

“Well, any lock can be picked, right?” Solea didn’t wait for a response. She marched towards the door, shouldering Dorian aside gently as she used her good arm to yank her dagger out. She felt a spark of amusement at how the enchanted blade, aided by her magic, had sunken nearly to the hilt into solid stone.

Sheathing the blade, she placed her good hand on the door and sent an inquiring thread of energy into the door. She sensed the magical mechanism of the lock and saw that Dorian was right about the red lyrium shards being the key. Solea opened her eyes in satisfaction and strode over to a small cluster of crystals that sat in the corner of the room near the door. She drew her dagger, flipping it in her hand to use the pommel to break off some red lyrium. Before she could strike, a hand caught her arm.

“Let me.” Fenris said. “I know it hurts.” Even though he couldn’t see, she felt his sympathetic gaze directed at her through the crackling red that remained of his eyes. She winced, knowing that her father would be intimately familiar with how painful the red crystal could be for someone like them.

“Thanks.” She murmured, gratefully putting space between her and the red lyrium. A moment later, Fenris approached her with four shards of lyrium in hand. She gestured for him to fit them into the empty slots of the door. They didn’t fit perfectly but they didn’t fall out which was fine for what she needed. “You guys might want to stand back.”

Solea’s left arm moved stiffly as she raised it to place both hands on the door again, right over where the shards fit. Sucking in a deep breath she gathered her energy, pooling it in preparation for what she was about to do. Using the misfit shards as a gateway for access into the magical lock, she sent a surge of lyrium-based power into the door. Abandoning finesse, she focused on breaking the lock through sheer force alone.

The resulting boom was deafening as the lock and the entire door shattered before her in an explosion of masonry and dust. Thankfully the direction of her blast sent the larger pieces flying harmlessly forward but she was still showered in a deluge of smaller debris that coated her hair and armor in a fine white powder. Solea took only a moment to smirk proudly at her handiwork before she stormed into the throne room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a little longer for this chapter to come out because it got a bit away from me but I figure its so long that it makes up for the delay!


	8. Father

The throne room of Redcliffe castle a year into the future was remarkably similar to the one she’d left. Solea noted the new tapestries hanging on the wall, but everything else was eerily untouched by the carnage that had struck every other room. There was something about the room that rubbed her the wrong way. She didn’t know why until the quiet in her mind answered it. There wasn’t a single speck of red lyrium anywhere in the room. The only noise she felt was the low hum that came from her father’s corrupt markings as he, and the rest of her companions scrambled to follow her into the room. After so much exposure in the castle depths, her mind was blissfully deprived of that haunting melody.

There were only two other people in the vast room, standing silhouetted in front of a roaring fire on a slightly raised dais at the back of the room, where she imagined a throne would normally be. One figure was crouched, low to the ground and indiscernible, but the other was familiar. She recognized the gaudy sharp spikes of fabric.

“Alexius!” Solea stalked forward with lethal intent, sensing her companions finally catching up as she approached the magister. Dorian stayed to her left while Fenris and Varric hovered protectively at her right shoulder. The rest fanned out behind her. She was readying for a fight as she drew close to the ring of light cast by the fire when she realized that Alexius had his back to them. He hadn’t even turned around to face the obvious threat. Stunned, Solea stopped short.

“I knew you would appear again.” His voice betrayed none of the arrogant anger she’d heard before. He spoke in a flat, almost emotionless tone. “Not that it would be now, but I knew I hadn’t destroyed you. My final failure.”

Before Solea could respond, Dorian exclaimed in barely contained outrage, “Was it worth it? Everything you did to the world? To yourself?”

Defeat was apparent in not only Alexius’ voice but in his posture as well. “It doesn’t matter now. All we can do is wait for the end.” He let out a small laugh that had no real humor in it. “The irony that you should appear now, of all the possibilities. All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death. There is nothing else. The Elder One comes: for me, for you, for us all.”

Solea felt the blood start to boil in her veins as she listened to Alexius talk. She wasn’t sure she could believe the words that were coming out of the man’s mouth. This man had been the root cause of all the suffering she’d witnessed since falling out of the portal. All the pain and destruction and ruin in the world, and now he had the audacity to express regret, to wish things were different? As if pandering petty words now would make up for what he’d done. And the bastard didn’t even have the balls to turn around and look at them while he spoke.

She was so preoccupied with her growing rage, that Solea didn’t notice Leliana moving until she’d snatched up the second figure in the room and held a knife to its throat. Alexius, who’d remained unmoving until that point, immediately convulsed with alarm. “Felix!”

Solea focused on the second figure for the first time and saw that whatever man Felix had once been was gone. The creature in Leliana’s arms was nothing more than a ghoul with a resemblance to Alexius’ son. 

Dorian, Alexius and Leliana were arguing but Solea could not hear what they were saying. All her mind could think about was the horrible, ghastly irony of it all. The sole reason Alexius had used to justify his behavior was the promise of his son’s life. Alexius had destroyed the world for his son. And his son had died anyways.

When Leliana slit Felix’s throat with careless ease, Solea was, above all, relieved. She didn’t know the man very well, but no one deserved whatever cursed existence Felix had been stuck in. She had no pity in her for the father’s grief at the loss of his son and she was deaf to his cries of rage. The cool rationality of battle calmed her mind as Alexius flung Leliana back with an explosion of his magic and Solea rolled to avoid the same fate.

Seven against one should have been an easy victory; they’d swept through the Venatori guards with only minor trouble. But Solea had a feeling Alexius was going to be more difficult. He was a man who had nothing left to lose, which made him dangerously reckless in her mind. Plus, she and her companions, five of which had spent the last year in captivity facing various degrees of torture, had just spent hours fighting their way through the castle. They were exhausted. No amount of fighting proficiency could compensate for that. Solea was amazed they were still on their feet at all. 

As if proving her assumptions, Alexius sheathed himself in a protective barrier and made a complicated gesture with his staff. Two vibrant green rifts exploded into existence in the throne room, hovering in the air and spitting out a sizable company of demons. Solea let out a stream of curses. She could feel the strain the rifts exerted on the already weakened Veil. If she didn’t seal them quickly, there would be nothing to prevent an unstoppable horde of demons flooding through.

She rolled out of the way of a bolt of energy flung at her by a wraith. Every movement she made pulled painfully on the numerous cuts and bruises she’d collected in their battles through the castle. Most were minor and concerned her little. There was one long slash along her left arm that was responsible for a growing red stain on her sleeve, but she didn’t have time to worry about it. She knew the longer this fight went on the more likely one of them was to get seriously injured. 

As if the demons weren’t enough, Alexius used his magic to manipulate time with an ease that was disconcerting. All around him small circles of temporal distortions would erupt, ensnaring one of them like a trap. The unlucky person would either grind to halt as their movements slowed, or stumble as their body sped forward faster than they could control.

Their only saving grace was teamwork. Each time one of them faltered in a time glyph or was set upon by demons, someone was there to watch their back. Solea had spent months fighting together with Varric, Solas and Cassandra and they’d all become comfortable with each other’s fighting styles in that time. Fenris, Dorian and Leliana quickly developed their own rhythm and broke off to deal with the demons centered around the other rift.

Trusting her companions to keep the demons off her, Solea strained to raise her left hand and sent a spiraling thread from the green mark that split the skin of her palm. The strange magic of the mark was familiar to her now, but she could feel the rift fighting her attempts to close it. Normally, they would kill all the demons and their return to the Fade would weaken the rift. At that point, sealing it was as simple as coaxing the threads of the Veil to weave together once more. There was no time for that though. She had to seal it up now, before it tore the Veil any further.

The rift resisted her efforts and she channeled her own magic into the thread, fighting to close the rift. It took a solid minute, and a significant portion of her mana reserves, to yank the edges of the rift back together. There was a huge snap of protest as it closed, and Solea turned to address the other rift. She paused just a moment to reassure herself that her companions were successfully fighting off the demons and was stunned to see Alexius standing back and watching the battle take place. He wasn’t even bothering to attack them while they were distracted by demons.

The next rift took even longer to seal and by the end she was using her right hand to keep her left arm up as it screamed in protest. Biting her lip to keep from screaming, she sent a final desperate burst of her magic through her arm which brought on another torrent of agony. Thankfully, the rift slammed shut with a snap like the first and Solea stumbled as exhaustion flooded her body and she fought to keep her feet.

She collapsed against a pillar, her left arm hanging uselessly at her side. She could feel a small stream of blood running down it to drip off her fingers in a steady rhythm. She was lightheaded from all the magic she used, and she knew she was dangerously close to passing out. She saw the others finishing off the last of the demons and decided she had a moment to catch her breath before joining them. She could fight well enough with one arm, even without her magic.

Solea gripped her dagger and prepared to step forward when suddenly Alexius was blocking her path. She blinked slowly, unable to determine how he’d gotten in front of her. Last time she’d checked, he’d been standing by the fireplace. Now he was before her, trembling with a number of emotions, the chief of which was a rage that burned in his eyes.

“You won’t get away from me again.” He sneered at her. “I will not stand here and be bested by a _child_.” He was surrounded by wriggling tendrils of green temporal magic and his staff flared with the immense power that he was gathering. There would be no hastily summoned portal to throw her to the future this time. The man meant to obliterate her from all timelines, once and for all. 

“Then you should sit down.” Solea pushed herself off the wall, staggering slightly as she held her dagger defensively and tried to summon the power in her blood. All she managed was a brief flicker of blue light before her power died. She had no magic and no lyrium, but she still had a dagger in her hand, and she’d be damned if she gave up now. The pillar at her back would limit her mobility though. She moved to dart around Alexius’ side and gain space to fight, but her body was stiff, and her body responded slower than expected to her command.

Alexius’ staff smacked her sharply on the ribs as he knocked her back. Her head struck the floor heavily and she rolled to a stop, her vision swimming with black dots and dizziness. The next thing she saw clearly was Alexius standing over her, poised to deal the killing blow. She blinked slowly, bracing for the blow, but when she opened her eyes again, he hadn’t moved. Why wasn’t he moving? His face was frozen in the oddest expression that captivated her. She tracked it in fascination, watching it descend to the ground. It took her befuddled brain several moments to realize that the rest of Alexius was no longer attached.

“The bastard deserved worst.” Her father entered her field of vision, solving the mystery behind Alexius’ decapitation. Fenris kicked the head away violently and she could see the rage contorting his features. She struggled to come up with an appropriate response for the moment. 

“You shouldn’t use that language. There are children present.” The corner of Fenris’ mouth crooked up in a semblance of a smile. He thrust out his hand at her and she contemplated it, wondering if she was ready to stand once more. As was the theme in her life, she concluded she had no other choice. Gripping tightly, she let her father pull her up onto unsteady feet.

The Seeker finished off the last demon in the room and the companions gathered around Alexius’ corpse as Dorian crouched over it. He began lamenting the magister’s folly but Solea paid little attention as Fenris tore a strip of fabric from her shirt and used it to bind the wound on her arm. She could barely feel the pressure from the makeshift bandage but was distracted from that concern when Dorian held up a familiar necklace.

“This is the same amulet he used before. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used, and I should be able to reopen the rift and send us back.”

“An hour? That’s impossible. You must go now.” Leliana’s furious protest was supported by an ear-splitting shriek reverberating through the room, sending a rain of dust and small stones down upon them as the entire castle rumbled from the force of the noise. Leliana looked up in dismay. “The Elder One.” A deep booming sounded in the distance, the ominous noise repeating steadily as if some enormous creature approached.

Solea watched her father, Varric, the Seeker and Solas exchange knowing looks before Varric turned to Leliana. “We’ll hold the main door. Once they break through, it is up to you.”

Even Solea’s rattled mind understood. Her stomach dropped. “No.” She clung to her father’s shirt, fingers digging into ragged fabric. “Papa, no you can’t do this. I can’t lose you. I just found you again.” She turned to Varric. “Uncle please, there has to be another way. We can all make it.” 

“Look at us, Flicker, halfway in our graves. We wouldn’t last much longer anyways.”

She let out a sharp cry and Fenris pulled her into a fierce hug. She cried into his chest, “Please, please don’t leave me. I can’t—”

“We must do this, Lea.” Fenris told her firmly as he drew away. “Often times the right path is the most painful one. At least our deaths can mean something now. It is more than I’d ever hoped for in the last year.”

Solea felt the realization that he was right hit her like a flood of ice in her veins. They had to do this, so she could go back and stop all of these terrible things from happening. She sucked in a deep breath and gently broke free from her father’s hold. She was a Hawke. She could do this, no matter how much it pained her.

She allowed herself to hug her uncle with her good arm for only a brief moment. She couldn’t find room for words through the frozen chunk lodged in her throat and so she let him go without any. Varric seemed to understand what she wanted to say anyways. He briefly clasped Fenris’ hand in farewell, the two old friends exchanging solemn nods before Varric, Solas and Cassandra disappeared through the throne room entrance. Since Solea had shattered the throne room doors, Leliana and Fenris pushed some furniture over to block the doorway, making a haphazard barrier that blocked her view into the room beyond.

Standing on the dais of the throne room, Solea could hear the fireplace crackling at her back, but she could feel no heat. Minutes passed as she stood frozen, watching Fenris and Leliana ready themselves while the sound of fierce fighting could be heard on the other side of the door. Behind her, Dorian was chanting as he worked on the portal spell. 

The blockade at the door exploded inwards and a swarm of demons and Venatori flooded into the room. Fenris charged into the fray as a red streak, shouting a battle cry as he slashed with his giant sword. Leliana fired arrow after arrow at her foes, bringing an enemy down with every shot. For a single moment, the enemy faltered at the resistance. Then even more enemies surged into the room. Leliana stumbled back as an enemy archer embedded an arrow in her shoulder, and Solea watched her father get completely surrounded. A Venatori rogue struck a dagger into his shoulder.

“No!” Solea cried out and took a single step forward. She didn’t know what she planned to do but before she could do anything, Dorian yanked her back. He pinned her to his chest with the arm that wasn’t holding his staff. She struggled against him, but she was too weak to break free despite her desperation.

“Stop!” He yelled in her ear, “You move, and we all die!” His arm was an iron bar across her chest, and she couldn’t break free. She slumped forward in defeat and heard Dorian continue working on the spell although he didn’t relax his arm around her.

Solea watched helplessly as demonic claws and sharp steel slashed at her father and each injury felt like a shard piercing her heart. She didn’t want to watch yet she refused to look away. A cluster of arrows sprouting from her chest brought Leliana to her knees. Solea could not help them, but she could bear witness to their sacrifice. It was the very least they deserved. 

When her father finally fell, he was so covered in blood that she couldn’t even see the red lyrium marring his skin. She had no air left in her lungs to cry out. The sword slipped from his hands and clattered to the ground as his body slumped around the demon claws puncturing his chest where they held him aloft. Even as she heard the portal pop into existence behind her, and Dorian shout triumphantly, she did not move. She stared at her father’s limp body and her eyes didn’t move, even as Dorian pulled her backward with him through the portal and the world dissolved into swirls of green and black.


	9. Templar

This time, she emerged from the portal on her feet – thanks to Dorian’s supportive arm keeping her upright. Where a second ago she’d been staring at her father’s dead body, now the only thing in her vision was a stunned Alexius reeling backwards from their sudden reappearance. The sight of him before her reignited the fury that had motivated her explosive entrance through the shard-locked door. In an instant, the frozen statue that was her body melted into a raging inferno of movement.

Blood racing and ablaze in blue light, she fade-stepped before him with a thought, her previous exhaustion drowned out in the wave of fury surging through her. She punched him before he even registered her initial movement, electricity crackling around her fist. Alexius jolted backwards into a stone supporting pillar with a sickening crunch. Before he could fall to the ground, she was in front of him again, a blue wraith of movement. She thrust her right arm into his chest and grasped his beating heart firmly in her hand, lifting him effortlessly.

Alexius’ feet dangled despite his superior height and she smirked as he gasped, struggling in vain. She paused a moment to appreciate the sheer terror on the vile man’s face before she killed him. He was not so arrogant now that she literally held his life in her hands. She tightened her grip, cutting off a pained cry and prepared to rip the organ from his chest when a sudden cry interrupted her.

“Solea! What are you doing?” Varric’s voice was so full of horror and fear that it penetrated the haze of anger that blinded her to the rest of the room. Finally taking in her surroundings, she realized every pair of eyes was locked on her. She knew she made for an impressively frightening visage with her every blood vessel radiating blue light beneath her skin. Her right arm was intangible from the elbow up where it was lodged in Alexius’ chest. Her body was cloaked in a humming aura of energy as electricity danced along her skin in fluid currents.

The throne room was silent as she paused, a second shy of ripping a man’s heart out with her fist in front of them all. The Seeker had her sword drawn, a steely wariness in her eyes as she moved forward while everyone else hesitated, unsure of what to do. Solea faced her warily, prepared to kill Alexius and free her only good arm to defend herself against the Seeker. Unsure of her ability to control the direction of her powers in her weakened state, she did not want to risk using larger magical attacks with Varric and Dorian so close to her. 

“Stand down, Herald.” The Seeker ordered harshly and Solea could see the steadfast assuredness in her movements that had been blatantly absent in the future woman. In an instance, the Seeker had labeled her an out of control mage that needed to be subdued, willingly or no. 

“Now, now, Seeker, there’s no need to be hasty.” Varric darted in front of the woman. “Flicker is going to put the magister down and we’ll solve this without anyone dying.” He looked over his shoulder at Solea pointedly.

“The only person dying today is him.” She snarled and squeezed, digging her fingers in. Alexius let out a strangled cough, a small trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth.

Felix let out a sharp cry and moved to stop her at the same time the Seeker shoved Varric aside to rush towards her as well. Solea lashed out reflexively against the approaching threats and a sphere of fade energy as solid as stone erupted from her, shoving everyone in her vicinity away. She kept feeding energy into the barrier around her, maintaining a ten-foot circle that no one could enter.

“Solea, you can’t do this.” Varric pleaded. She felt a small sliver of guilt as she watched him scramble his feet from where he spell had sent him sprawling. “You don’t want to do this.”

She could see the concern in his eyes and felt the need to explain. He had to know what Alexius had done, what he _would_ do if she didn’t stop him. They all needed to know. “You don’t understand. This is mercy. He deserves worse for what he’s done. He–” She choked on the words, unable to force out a description of all she’d seen in the future; of her companions’ deaths, of her _father’s_.

To her surprise, it was Dorian who answered. “I know Alexius has committed many wrongs.” He spoke evenly but she could hear a thread of anger in his voice, though whether it was directed at her or Alexius she wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was both. “He will answer for them. But through justice, not brutal vengeance. Let him be judged for his crimes for all to see.” She could see her own weariness mirrored in his eyes as he stared at her. “Don’t let this man be cause to any more violence today.”

Almost as if he’d cast his own spell, Dorian’s words drove away the spike of energy sparked by her fury and with it most of her anger drained too. Suddenly, she was nothing but brutally tired. She withdrew her hand, leaving Alexius’ heart inside his chest as he fell to the ground gasping for air. Her blood calmed and she withdrew her magic, her shield dissolving as the last shreds of her mana reserves disappeared. She was empty, in every sense of the word, as she slumped forward.

Her blood coated hand slipped against the stone pillar and she collapsed to the ground. Varric and Dorian were the first to approach her and her vision was consumed by her uncle’s worried gaze. The pair propped her up against the pillar and her head lolled back against it. Varric tugged her head up to look at him, inhaling deeply and demanding she emulate him as he guided her through the breathing meditations her father taught her long ago. It had been years since she’d need him to help her through them.

When her veins were dull once more and her heart rate slowed, Solea felt the pain that had been held behind a wall of adrenaline, fear and magic, coming rushing forward. Her muscles ached from overuse; her left arm was a pit of agony with a line of fire centered along the cut that had been hastily bandaged. She could hear Varric and Dorian conversing hotly over her, but she was too tired to listen. She wasn’t going to do anything but sit in this spot for a good long while.

* * *

Varric felt wrung out, like every emotion had been twisted out of him. He’d felt a crippling despair when Solea had disappeared through the portal and then, before he’d even fully processed it, she emerged again. He’d nearly dropped to his knees in relief only for shock to replace it when she’d nearly ripped Alexius’ heart out and thus revealed her magic despite working so hard to conceal it for months previously. He was eternally grateful that Dorian had managed to talk her down. Things were bad enough now that her secret was out and he couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be if the first public use of her magic had been to murder someone, even someone as bad as the magister.

Varric was desperate to know what had happened to Solea and Dorian when they’d been sucked into the portal. One moment, she’d been calm, composed, and in perfect health; then she’d reappeared literally glowing with rage and covered in blood. She hadn’t even managed to get to her feet to address King Alistair when he’d stormed into the throne room and mere moments after declaring the mages would be the Inquisition’s new allies, she’d passed out.

Now, bumping along in the back of a wagon next to her still unconscious body, he prayed for her to wake up so he could yell at her to never scare him like this again. He was too old to be worrying like this; it had to be bad for his health. His fear had only gotten worse as he’d cleaned the blood from her skin and revealed the many minor wounds littering her body; especially the deep gash curling around her left arm from shoulder to elbow. He’d let Solas wrap it tightly with clean bandages, but Varric worried infection might set in while her body was too tired to heal. Because what scared him the most was the ghost white pallor to her skin and the dark bruises shadowing her eyes.

He recognized the signs that she’d exhausted all her mana and that, combined with her other injuries, left a pit of fear in his gut that kept him up at night. He hadn’t left her side since she’d fallen unconscious, guarding her as fiercely as a Mabari and keeping Bianca lying drawn on his lap – for his own comfort mostly. The Seeker had tried to put a templar guard in the wagon with him – Solea was constantly crying out and tossing about in her sleep – citing the risk of possession in a young mage. Varric, supported by Solas and to his surprise, Dorian, had immediately dissuaded her of that idea and he’d promised violence if she didn’t relent. He still noticed an increased number of guards around the wagon, but he let the Seeker have that much as long as they stayed away. Solea did not need to wake up to a templar looming over her.

His two supporters often joined him in monitoring the young elf’s condition and he could sense their confusion every time he stopped them from trying to heal her with magic. He didn’t have the energy to explain why, he simply told them it wouldn’t work, and they would do the best they could with traditional methods. He didn’t want to reveal any more about Solea than he had to and was grateful they mostly respected his words. He did notice them exchanging thoughtful glances and the back of his mind wondered how much longer her other secret could remain hidden. It would be so much easier if he knew exactly how much he had to hide.

“Flicker, you better wake your sorry ass up.” Varric cursed as he absently drew a piece of hair out of her face. “I’m tired of covering for you while you’re sleeping all day.” He prayed that his little Hawke had inherited both her parents’ stubborn refusal to die. She was still frighteningly pale, and her rest was far from peaceful as she seemed to be constantly plagued by nightmares that left her thrashing about.

Varric was only gone for a few minutes. He’d only left long enough to walk to the tavern to get food and only then at Dorian’s insistence that he had to eat something. Solea had been blessedly still when he’d left, sleeping peacefully for once. He was walking back to Solea’s cabin, carrying a plate of steaming meat that tickled his nose with a mouthwatering aroma of spices, when a sudden frantic cry split the air. It was followed quickly by a muffled thud against the side of the cabin and a deeper, masculine grunt of pain. Varric dropped his plate, rushing forwards. Damn it all, she wasn’t supposed to wake up now. He was supposed to be there so he could explain things first.

He was only halfway across the clearing when Solea burst out of her cabin, right in front of the two templars that stood guard on either side of the doorway. Time slowed to a halt. Varric watched her freeze, noting the distinct glow in her electric blue eyes and the sparks dancing along her hands. He hoped Dorian was alright inside the cabin. He held his breath, silently begging the templars not to do anything rash. They were standing right next to her, within arm’s reach and startled by her sudden appearance. She’d been doing so much better with all the templars around Haven and he prayed it would be enough.

Recovering from surprise, one templar drew his blade while the other made a move to grab her arm. Varric let loose a string of expletives, darting forward into motion once more. Even as he moved to take a step, Solea’s eyes filled with panic and she shrieked. A crackling blue shockwave threaded with thin veins of red energy exploded outwards from her body, flinging the two templars away violently. There was a crunch of metal crumpling even as they landed on the soft snow blanketing the ground.

“Flicker!” Varric cried, desperate to stop her even as she bolted. He’d told the Seeker not to assign guards, but Cassandra had been in a temper since Redcliffe and adamant that a child mage could not be trusted to control herself. Busy with watching over his goddaughter, Varric had been forced to pick his battles and focused on tending her wounds while trusting that he would warn her when she awoke. He cursed himself for listening to Dorian instead of having someone bring him food. This disaster might have been avoided if he’d been there when she’d awoken.

Both Dorian and Solas had proven invaluable in helping care for Solea’s wounds while she was unconscious but neither mage could have understood how upset she would be to wake up with templars right outside her door. Even he hadn’t expected such a violent reaction, given how often Solea had been in war councils with Commander Cullen lately; although she had mentioned that the former Knight-Captain felt different to her then a normal templar.

He chased after Solea as she sprinted towards Haven’s main gate, but she was deaf to his calls to stop. Her left arm flapped limply at her side and it threw off her balance as she ran, adding an uncharacteristic clumsiness to her movements. She shoved people out of her way or simply phased through them and Varric struggled to catch up. His short legs were no match for the young elf’s speed and he lost sight of her in the crowds. People reeled away in terror at the mad dash Solea made through their midst and the dwarf had to navigate the writhing crowd carefully which slowed him down further.

“Halt.” A stern voice, muffled slightly by steel, called out over people’s shouting. Varric finally broke to see Solea drawn up short by a line of templars that blocked the gateway leading out of Haven. It seems the Seeker had anticipated an escape attempt or perhaps, he wondered, she had posted them there as an extra precaution. He wouldn’t put it past her.

Solea crouched defensively, blood running down her left arm where the wound must have reopened. She was slightly unsteady on her feet despite the frantic energy that had spurred her to sprint all the way from her cabin. Varric could see the sheer panic in every rigid muscle of her body as she eyed the templars that stood between her and freedom. This situation did not bode well. Stepping forward carefully, he approached her like one might a wild animal.

“Flicker, its okay. There not going to hurt you. You’re safe.” He raised his hands placatingly while shooting a meaningful look at said templars, ordering them with his eyes to stand still. “Why don’t we all just calm down.”

Solea’s head turned partially towards him but not far enough to prevent her from keeping an eye on the templars. He met her vibrant blue eyes and saw her recognize him. A sliver of rational thinking peaked through the fear as she relaxed ever so slightly and took a step towards him and away from the templars. Then, the same templar that had ordered Solea to stop raised his hand out at her back, to Silence her or something else, Varric did not know.

In an instant, the small glimmer of peace was gone and anger darkened her features. Solea turned and fade-stepped in front of the templar. She grabbed his outstretched hand in her own and there was a flare of blue light where their hands touched and the sickening crunch of bone. Whatever he’d been trying to do thwarted, the templar yanked his mangled hand free and stumbled back in horror. Solea inhaled deeply and to Varric it felt as if she sucked all the oxygen around them into her. She exhaled and thrust her hand towards the templar in one smooth motion.

A bright explosion of white and a loud boom echoed as a bolt of lightning erupted from her hand and struck the man square in the chest. He catapulted backwards through the gateway to fall in a crumpled heap with a huge smoking hole in the center of his chestplate. His companions reacted swiftly with battle-hardened reflexes and coordinated movements. As one they drew their weapons and circled around her. In response, Solea thrust her right hand up in a fist and the ground around her rumbled and undulated with waves of green energy. She pulled her hand down sharply and a rippling wave of green crushed down on the templars from above, knocking them all of their feet. The force of the spell sent a shockwave through the air that buffeted Varric’s hair.

She made a new, more subtle gesture, with her hand and lightning once more leapt from her fingers. It danced towards the nearest fallen templar and the bolt spread eagerly to each warrior multiplying into many fingers as it jumped between the conductive steel armor with ease, leaving paralyzed bodies in its wake.

In the span of fifteen seconds, Solea was left standing in the middle of a small crater, surrounded by fallen templars. She seemed almost as stunned as Varric felt as she took in the aftermath around her. The air was sharp with the scent of ozone and the ground around her had been churned up, exposing the rocky brown soil beneath the once pristine layer of snow. 

Turning slowly, Solea met his gaze and he had the sensation that she was actually _seeing_ him for the first time since she’d awoken. Her eyes were now a dim blue and tears gathered in the corners. She blinked once, long and slow, as if it was a struggle to keep her eyes open. In that moment, she looked every bit the child she was. It reminded Varric of the night he’d led a young Solea through the streets of Kirkwall in the wee hours before dawn, taking her to the elven clan that was to be her new home. Barely a toddler, she’d not understood much of what was happening or why she had to leave her parents behind. She’d had the exact same expression that she did now – a sort of wounded confusion – like she didn’t know what she’d done to deserve this.

Solea swayed once, twice, then whispered so faintly Varric barely heard her, “He’s dead.” A single tear escaped to fall down her cheek and then Solea collapsed to the ground, gone from the waking world once more.


	10. Loner

Haven was a buzzing hive of activity and people swarmed about as Solea watched from her perch on the roof of the Chantry. She watched the many members of the Inquisition scurry about on different tasks and envied them their simple roles. Examining the green mark on her left palm, she flexed and clenched her fingers rhythmically, testing their strength. It had taken her a week to regain any use of her left arm at all and another week after that to regain dexterity in her hand. Her minor injuries had all healed and the gash on her arm was much better thanks to the elfroot and spindleweed paste she’d spread on it beneath her bandage. Physically, she was almost fully recovered but the memories of the false future haunted her thoughts.

The threat of possession and demons made the Fade a place of fear for most people but to her it had been a place of freedom. Her unique ability gave her a stronger connection to the fade than most mages. Growing up, she’d spent her dreams basking in the joy of being able to walk about freely. She’d used the fade as a place to hone her fighting skills in a way she could never do when she was awake, and spirits would often be drawn to her with advice to share. In the last two weeks – drained from exhausting her body’s mana – Solea had come to fear the Fade as she never had before. Too weak to exert control, her dreams had turned to nightmares full of demons. Sleep evaded her and left her eyes bruised as evidence. She had started avoiding Varric in her desperate desire to pretend everything was normal and keep him from worrying more about her.

She was spending more time with Dorian – he was the only one who could understand. She couldn’t bear to share what they’d experienced with anyone else. A small irrational part of her feared that putting it into words might somehow bring that terrible future into existence. Dorian told her several times that she needed to tell Varric, but Solea already felt guilty for how worried her uncle was while she was bed-ridden, and she didn’t want to burden him further. She could work through this without his help.

As had become habit, Solea often found peace in the open forests outside the walls of Haven. She spent as little time as possible in the camp, preferring to spend her days surrounded by nature and avoiding people’s stares. Some were inquisitive, others hostile, but many held a bewildered awe that made her deeply uncomfortable. Between her fight with the templars, the revelation of her magic, and her actions at Redcliffe, her notoriety had skyrocketed. She drew people’s attention wherever she went, just as the novelty of her being Herald felt like it was starting to die down. The worst was the looks she got from Haven’s resident templar population. 

She kept waiting for the moment the templars would decide to lock in her chains and throw her in the dungeon, Herald or no. True to her word however, the Seeker had promised not to post guards on her and, besides hostile glares and hands gripping tightly to sword handles as she passed, Solea was left blessedly alone. 

The Seeker had confronted her the moment Solea been well enough to leave her bed. Facing the full force of the woman’s fury had been startling to the say the least and Solea’s own temper had risen in response when the Seeker seemed dead set on ignoring all logic. 

_“Why are you so fixated on my control of my magic?” Solea clenched her fists, feeling her face heat with her rising ire. “I kept my magic controlled enough to hide it for months despite being surrounded by templars and mages alike. Fenhedis, I tricked you too and you’re a blessed Seeker.” She stared unwaveringly into the woman’s dark eyes waiting for a response. Despite the Seeker’s previous affinity for endless shouting, the woman crossed her arms and remained silent._

_Realization hit and with it, Solea felt the tension drain from her body. “That’s why.” The woman before her shifted uncomfortably and suddenly she didn’t seem as intimidating. “You’re not worried about me losing control. You’re not even angry that I’m a mage. You’re upset that I managed to hide it from you. That a young, Dalish elf was able to conceal the very thing you trained most your life to fight.”_

_The Seeker flinched back at her words. “That’s not- I don’t-” And Solea knew her words to be the truth even as the woman scrambled to deny it._

The conversation had gone much easier after that and Solea had walked away free from templar guards, although the Seeker was still clearly upset about it all. The rest of the Inquisition’s advisors took the news much better. Leliana, as always, was hard to read. Solea got the impression Leliana was actually impressed at her ability to hide such a secret – there was a new level of respect in the redhead’s gaze. Commander Cullen’s opinion was more difficult to determine and the only thing Solea noticed was an increased stiffness in his posture during meetings. Still uncomfortable around the former templar, she didn’t bother to worry too much about it.

In charge of the more political aspects of the Inquisition, Josephine seemed concerned only with how Solea’s status as a mage might affect public opinion of both her as a Herald and the Inquisition as a whole. In the first meeting after Solea had awaken, the Ambassador had voiced her worries about the number of concerned nobles that had sent letters once news had spread. It was then that Josephine had suggested that Solea attend some fancy Orlesian party and convince the nobles there that she wasn’t some wild hedge mage. The idea was so preposterous that Solea was momentarily speechless.

“I will not waste my time at some ridiculous party.” Solea had protested furiously. “We have a bloody Breach to seal if you haven’t forgotten. You want me playing nice with some stuck-up Orlesian nobles, because they’re shaking in their knickers now that the precious Herald of Andraste is a mage?” She spat her title out contemptuously. 

“You will if you care about your new allies and how they’ll be treated once they get here.” Josephine responded calmly. “Whether you like it or not, people will look at you as representation of the Inquisition’s mages. People already distrust mages, but you must prove to them that they are no threat. Madame de Fer is well-liked and highly regarded. Her political connections alone would make her a powerful ally. If you can be seen befriending her, and get in her good graces, you will improve people’s opinion of you.”

Solea wanted to argue that she didn’t give a single nug about people’s opinion of her, but she knew Josephine was right. Because of her fame, or perhaps now infamy, people would be using her as a reference point for judging all mages. She owed it to Fiona and all the mages she’d allied with, to set a good example so they could integrate in peace when they got to Haven. For that, she would play nice with nobles to garner the public’s approval. 

The rest of the war meeting had been brief. Solea excused herself early as the advisors began discussing the logistics of transporting and housing all the mages that were making their way to Haven from Redcliffe. She’d slipped out of the room with a relieved sigh, the atmosphere in the war room had been tense of late. Her secret’s reveal had poisoned the burgeoning trust and camaraderie between her and the Inquisition leaders. Whether they approved or not, the revelation that she’d lied to them all had set them back and conversations had returned to the stilted, official tone from when she’d first awakened after the Conclave.

She’d fled to the roof of the Chantry, needing space and wanting to avoid anyone who might want to talk to her. Now, crouching on the snow-covered roof, she tracked the pathway leading out of Haven and, seeing it was clear of any who would recognize her, she clambered swiftly down to the ground. The snow was cold on her bare hands and feet, but she relished the feel of the soft powder on her skin. There was no longer the need to cover every inch of her skin in case she lost control and started glowing and it was a relief to feel the ground beneath her toes as she dropped down. 

Walking barefoot was a habit she’d developed living with the clan. Keeper Marethari had told her that it kept you more connected to nature and kept you grounded when performing magic. One thing it didn’t do was make Solea any better at channeling nature magic – despite the Keeper’s best efforts and hours of meditation. It had been clear early on that it was a pointless endeavor; Solea could no more summon plants than she could coax a wound to heal.

Solea paused to tuck her hair tightly underneath her red bandana, which vacated its usual home on her arm to hide her distinct ebony hair. A long wooden staff, stashed earlier with this very purpose in mind, served as her faux mage staff as she strode out towards Haven’s main gate. The key to hiding in plain sight, was not hiding at all. People’s minds were drawn to things that were out of place, things that didn’t fit in with what was expected. If you walked through a crowd confidently, moving just like everyone else, then gazes passed right over you – you became invisible. Haven was infinitely smaller than Kirkwall but still too large for everyone to know each other’s faces. Solea moved through unseen until she’d passed outside the suffocating walls and slipped into the shadows of the trees.

Out of sight, she pulled her hair free and it streamed back with the breeze, fluttering behind her like a flag. Solea wandered aimlessly amid the forest, using her staff as a walking stick. Her body was still weak from her ordeal and although her wounds had mostly healed, her energy flagged sooner than she liked. Settling onto an old tree stump to escape the icy ground, she folded her legs and closed her eyes to meditate. If her body was unable to allow her tranquility through motion, she would have to seek it while stationary. 

She breathed slowly, her heart rate settled, and she focused on it – zeroing in on the source of her power. With every beat it sent a rush of energy pumping through her via the blood traveling through her veins. Solea pictured the branching network of vessels in her mind, feeling the ebb and flow of energy as it moved within. She tapped into it, calling forth the power within her lyrium-charged blood. It was slower to respond than normal, still recovering like the rest of her body, but with practiced focus she let no stray thoughts distract her. With time the crimson cells began to illuminate. She didn’t open her eyes but she knew the glow would begin at her heart and spread outwards through arteries and veins until even the tiniest of capillaries was alight.

A branching web of lyrium blue light, the energy within her flowed in natural, biological motions that matched her body’s rhythms. If she lost focus and her heartbeat quickened, so too did the pace of the moving energy. It had taken years of practice and mental fortitude to learn to restrain the lyrium even when the rest of her body was agitated. Even still, her control wasn’t perfect. At times, she resented her father for the ease with which he controlled his lyrium markings. The guilt that immediately such thoughts was worse than the envy. 

The differences between their two types of lyrium based powers was apparent even from visual comparison. Where her body glowed from within, along her bodies internal network, Fenris’ markings sat on his skin and followed external, man-made paths in artistic lines that possessed their own beauty but were ultimately artificial. This contrast paralleled the base difference between their powers. Fenris’ body fought against the lyrium that had been branded onto it unnaturally while Solea had been born with lyrium in her cells; her body wanted to use it. Thus, he had more control, but he paid a terrible price for it. 

She had only ever seen her father willing accept touch from two people, her mother and her. Even then he had bad days. Days where the slightest brush had him flinching away violently. As a child, she’d learned to sense the difference – learned to read the tenseness in his face and how to _feel_ the turmoil in his markings that meant, instead of crawling into his lap, she should ask to practice meditation. They’d sit side by side and, in her mind, she would reach out a tendril of energy to his markings, coaxing them to mirror her own calm currents of energy. Solea wasn’t sure if he felt what she was doing – her father didn’t seem to be as deeply aware of his lyrium as she was – but he always seemed cheerier afterwards.

She could see his smile now in her mind. The wide, unrestrained grin that only came out for her and her mother. It was blindingly white against his tan, olive skin. Suddenly, the lines of lyrium that touched his bottom lip had a spot of red marring the blue. The parasitic light bled through the markings overwhelming the blue entirely and Solea stumbled back in horror as the skin of his face shrank onto his skull and his smile morphed into a grimace of pain. Before her was her father as he had appeared in the nightmarish future in Redcliffe castle. Crimson seeped from the gaping wound in his chest where a demon’s claws had rent him. A dark, scarlet trail of blood slipped from the corner of his mouth in morbid contrast to the bright red light that radiated from his accusing stare. 

The weight of a hand on her shoulder sent Solea whirling about with a sharp scream as she fell down with an ungraceful thud. Dorian lifted his hands placatingly, looking at her in obvious concern as she scrambled to her feet. Heart racing, she took in the small clearing and the tree stump that she’d fallen from. Her mind recognized the forests of Haven, not the darkness of a castle dungeons and slowly her body calmed down. She must have fallen asleep while meditating and fallen right into another nightmare. Wiping sweat from her brow, Solea was just about to thank Dorian for waking her when she realized he was not alone, and icy dread froze her still.

“Hello, Solea.” Varric’s arms were crossed and she flinched at the sound of her name. The anger in his tone was expected but it was the clear worry as well that churned the guilt in her gut and made her shoulders slump. She was too tired to even try to lie about what had just happened. She plopped down onto the ground with a sigh, motioning for her uncle, Dorian and Solas to come closer as she leaned back against the sturdy wood stump.

“How much did Dorian tell you?” She gave the Tevinter a half-hearted glare, but he was completely unperturbed.

“He deserved to know.” Dorian said simply.

“We cannot help you, da’len, if we don’t understand what is going on.” Solas pointed out. Elf, dwarf and man started down at her and her denial that she needed help died on her lips with another long sigh. 

Throughout her retelling, Solea kept her eyes down, her hands fiddling with the bandana she’d pulled from her neck. She tried to stay detached from the tale as it left her mouth, focusing on each word individually as her lips formed it, rather than the meaning the words had when linked together. Even so, she flickered sporadically the entire time and she caught herself stopping suddenly on several occasions to check if the light was red or blue. When she finished, silence reigned. Solea lifted her eyes nervously, looking only at Varric and trying to gauge his reaction.

“Maker’s breath.” He exclaimed. “That’s one hell of a shit show.” Solea barked out a single cracked laugh, because that was the grossest understatement she’d ever heard. Then, Varric was next to her and his arms were around her and she realized she was crying yet again. She’d promised herself she was done shedding tears in front of others, done showing weakness. But this was Varric, and he smelt of home, and his arms felt like family and she was so tired. Creators, she was so tired.

Varric held her tightly until her breathing calmed and then pulled back to wipe gently beneath her eyes. “It’s going to be okay, Flicker.” His voice was low and comforting. “What you saw was a bad dream, it wasn’t real. Everyone is still alive. Fenris is still alive. None of that actually happened.”

Solea wished so hard that she could believe that, had chanted the same thing to herself every night before bed. Every time she thought she might start to believe it, Leliana’s skeletal face would whisper treacherously: _I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real._ She shook her head back and forth, a frown etched on her features as she struggled for words. How could she explain to him when he hadn’t been there to see it? How could she make him understand?

“Whether or not the events we witnessed will come to pass in this timeline…they did exist, they were real.” Dorian chimed in. “I could bore us all to death with discussing the complexities of time magic and the implications of our time travel adventure, but the simple matter is…we lived it. It was real to us. It was real to the people who died.”

“He’s right, Uncle. People suffered and died there. We watched some of them die for us.” She clenched her hands in red fabric. “I watched my father die. I can’t pretend their sacrifices…their suffering, didn’t exist and I will do everything in my power to keep the future we saw from ever happening again.”

Silence followed her proclamation and the mood was stifling until she clapped her hands together to dispel the tension. Solea had enough of talking about Redcliffe. “Now that we’re all on the same page, I know you two have questions for me that I’ve been avoiding until now.” She turned to look at Dorian and Solas. “After all you’ve done for me, it’s only fair that I give you some answers to sate you curious intellectuals.”

“Why wouldn’t Varric let me heal you?” Solas blurted out immediately, startling a laugh out of her. She knew he wouldn’t wait long but he’d barely let her finish speaking. The elf consumed knowledge like most people ate food. “Does it have to do with how you were able to conceal your magic, even from other mages?”

Solea hesitated for just a moment with her answer. She trusted Solas and Dorian to know the truth about her powers. Dorian had probably guessed a lot from watching her at Redcliffe and Solas was perceptive almost to a fault. But this was a secret she’d kept her whole life and it felt strange to speak of it so openly outside of her family. She’d have to navigate this carefully to avoid discussing her mother. That secret had to stay locked far away until she was long gone from Haven.

“He wouldn’t let you try to heal me because it wouldn’t work.” Solea could see confusion in both their gazes and so she went on. “Healing magic doesn’t work on me. Well, magic in general doesn’t work.”

Her explanation only unleashed a whole new flood of questions from the two mages and she started to explain to them about the complicated nature of the lyrium in her blood. Sometime during the explanation, her uncle slipped away but she barely noticed – lost in the freedom to openly discuss, not only magic in general, but _her_ magic with people who understood. 

Time flew by until the sunlight melted into warm shades of red and orange and the shadows in the clearing lengthened. Solea was slumped back against the tree stump watching Solas and Dorian argue about magical theory and the effect of lyrium on mages in philosophical and scholarly terms that went far over her head. Her understanding of magic came from practical experience with her own and the teachings of Keeper Marethari on Dalish magic.

She was content to watch man and elf debate back and forth. There was no true anger in their words, and she took the chance to rest her voice after so long talking. It was strange to speak so much to people who weren’t her uncle; especially after months of being on edge, fearing at any moment someone would discover her secret and she’d be back in chains. Leaning her head back with a smile, Solea shut her eyes and basked in the fading sunlight, feeling lighter than she had in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive!!! Took me a long time to be happy with this chapter but here it is. Not very action heavy and full of more angst because apparently I haven't gotten enough of torturing poor Solea. Hope you enjoy!


	11. Sympathizer

_The sharp crack of a whip. Fire lancing across her back. Harsh laughter in her ears. The pervading scent of burning flesh. Show us what you can do, knife-ear._

Solea jolted awake, pulse racing as her lungs heaved desperately for air. For a single moment, her sleep-addled brain panicked, thinking the wetness on her back was blood. Clarity returned, and with it the knowledge that it was just sweat that plastered the cotton tunic to her back. Even as her heartrate evened and the blue light in the cabin dimmed, she knew there would be no more sleep tonight. She never slept after that nightmare. At least it was a break from memories of Redcliffe memories.

The moon was still bright overhead as she slipped out of her cabin, donning her cloak as she went. The night air was frigid, aided by a gentle breeze that sent flurries of snow whirling about her ankles as she walked. Solea trudged forward with her head down, trying to focus on the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other, letting her body direct itself. She paid little attention to her surroundings until a strange sound tickled the edge of her hearing.

At this time of night, Haven was a ghost town; its residents were either asleep or hiding inside by a fire and away from the cold. Besides the few guards patrolling the walls, there was no one out. Curiosity niggled her as the sound she followed grew louder and she identified the repetitive thud of a sword hitting wood. Who would possibly be practicing their swordsmanship at this hour?

The guards outside the gate had lit a fire in the brazier for warmth and the crackling flames cast a circle of light upon the clearing where the Inquisition soldiers training yard had been set up. Just at the edge of light, on the farthest training dummy from the gate, was a tall, broad silhouette and the source of the noise. The figure wielded a longsword in one hand, using it to rain blows against the straw dummy before it. 

Solea was drawn forward, her nosy nature overriding her desire for solitude. She noted the skill and surety in the way the man held the blade – moving swiftly, and with confidence, from one strike to the next. As she drew closer, she noticed his chest was bare, despite the cold, and his skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. More startling than the perspiration was the scars that littered the pale flesh of the man’s back. A grisly patchwork of raised flesh marred the skin – a scattered mix of healed cuts and burns that didn’t appear to stop at just his back.

Unbidden, a gasp slipped her lips and the man whirled around, his sword raised defensively. Solea _knew_, she knew what those scars meant. _Show us what you can do._ Horror shivered down her spine and then sheer disbelief struck her dumb as she took in the face before her. Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition forces, stared back at her in equal bewilderment and she found herself able to meet his eyes for the first time. Staring into the former Knight-Captain’s golden eyes, she saw past the surprise and recognized the haunted look. She’d seen it in a mirror enough times, seen it in her parents’ eyes too.

“I- I’m sorry.” The apology stumbled out as guilt and sympathy and anger knotted up in her gut. The Commander lowered his sword slowly, but he looked at her warily and she scrambled for more words. If she knew anything about this man – and clearly, she didn’t know nearly enough – he wouldn’t want her pity. “I didn’t think anyone was out here.” She winced and tried again. “Or rather, I wanted to know who was out here making such a racket at this time of night.” She meant it as a joke, but he immediately looked apologetic.

“I apologize, Herald, if the sound disturbed you.” He made as if to sheathe his sword and she waved her hands franticly, feeling guilty for disturbing him.

“No, no, trust me. I was already wide awake. I wouldn’t have even heard anything if I hadn’t already been headed in this direction.” She motioned at the training dummy he’d been attacking which was spilling straw out of several deep gashes. “Please, don’t let me interrupt you. I will find somewhere else to distract myself.” She wanted to take back the words as soon as she said them. They revealed too much to this man, this _templar_, that she didn’t trust, scars or not.

She turned hastily, needing to escape this awkward conversation. Before she’d taken more than three steps, the man called out for her to stop. “Herald, wait.” She spun around obligingly, and he seemed to struggle to word what he wanted to say. “There’s no need- You don’t have to…leave.” His face was open and earnest. His was not a countenance made for dishonesty and, despite herself, she nodded in agreement to the unspoken request. 

The Commander went to grab her a practice sword, but she waved it away. “Please don’t. I’ll only embarrass myself. My skills with a sword are terrible in broad daylight and I fear what they would look like now.” This time her jest earned her a small smile. Solea made her way to the training dummy just to the right of the one he had been using and withdrew a knife from the brace at her belt. She took a moment to eye her target while she felt the weight of the blade in her hand, feeling the Commander’s eyes on her. She struck with lightning fast movements, her arm a blur as her wrist flicked forward. The knife flew from her fingers.

It hit the target blade first, making a solid thud as it struck with force into the dummy’s chest. It was slightly off center from where she’d been aiming but Solea was satisfied with the result – she hadn’t practiced this skill in a while, and she was definitely rusty. As she drew another blade, the Commander returned to his own practice and for some time, the only sound in the yard was the thumping of blades into straw and wood.

Far too soon for her liking, the wound on her arm started aching from the repeated use and Solea was forced to stop or risk tearing it open again. She walked to her target to retrieve her blades and found her attention drawn to the movements of the Commander who was still hacking relentlessly away. He moved with surprising speed for a man of his size but there was a reckless strength behind his blows that removed the finesse from his movements. He was tearing the practice dummy to pieces. 

Solea’s questioning nature was dying to know what nightmares he was trying to drive back but it was not a question she had the right to ask; nor would she expect an answer. The thought of secrets drew her mind to another issue that drew a question unbidden from her lips. “All the other Inquisition leaders made it very clear how they felt about my decision to ally with the mages. But not you.” The Commander turned to her in surprise, stopping mid-swing. Her words had broken an hour-long silence. Now that she had started down this road, she found she needed to know. “You have to hate me for all the extra work I’ve made for you if nothing else. Integrating a whole host of mages into your army can’t be high on a templar’s list of ‘what I want most in the world’.”

“It will not be easy, but I do what must be done for the Inquisition.” His answer was stiff and formal, carefully lacking in any opinion. It was exactly on par with all their other interactions but suddenly it wasn’t enough for Solea. She wanted to strip back the veil of duty that he wrapped around himself like a shield and get to the emotions of the man beneath. 

Well, her mother always said anger was the easiest emotion to provoke. “First, I refuse your suggestion to appeal to the templars, then I practically order you to invite nearly every rebel mage into your home and you have to play nice too. Being forced to comply with the whims of an apostate mage, especially a child, must be infuriating for a templar. It makes sense that you despise me. I’m just surprised you’re so subtle about it.”

His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed with anger, but his words were steady and restrained. “I do not hate you. You simply made your opinion of templars, and of me, quite clear. There was no point in me bringing it up. It is to be expected, really, since you grew up outside of Kirkwall.”

“What?” She could only manage that much as her mind whirled. He said he thought _she_ hated _him_ and then he brought up Kirkwall of all things.

The anger had left the Commander’s features to be replaced with something remarkably like shame. “If you hadn’t heard stories among your clan as a child then I’m sure Varric has told you all about me.” He did not meet her eyes. “I was never very nice to him and his companions. One of the many things about that time that I regret. When I first heard you were from Clan Sabrae, I knew that was why your face was familiar and suddenly it made sense why you avoided me.”

Solea was intimately more familiar with the events that had taken place in Kirkwall than he would ever know. She knew that as Knight-Captain, he had been a part of the number of horrible things that had happened in the Circle there. But she also knew what he’d done the night Kirkwall had fallen. How he’d helped fight against Meredith and then let her parents and their friends go free afterwards. She recalled all the scars she’d seen on his body, some of which she knew had to have been caused by magic. Then there was that look in his eyes that was so familiar, the desperate way he swung his sword out here in the middle of the night and the freezing cold when all sane people were inside.

“I don’t hate you.” She admitted softly. “And I’m working on not hating all templars either.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Solea flinched, remembering all the templars she’d injured in her first disastrous awakening after Redcliffe. She deserved his scorn. Her stomach still churned with guilt over that incident. “I am sorry for that, but I didn’t attack them out of anger or hate.” Cullen looked at her in sheer disbelief and she was too tired to lie anymore. “I wasn’t angry, I was exhausted, hurting and…terrified.” After so long keeping secrets, even the smallest admission stung.

“You took out twenty templars while severely injured and barely conscious.” Accusation laced his words and despite his earlier assertion, she could see that the Commander would not so easily forgive her attack on his fellow templars. 

She felt a spark of indignation rise despite her guilt. Who was this man to judge her? He didn’t know anything about her or what she’d suffered. “I wasn’t always so capable of defending myself.” She spat the words, grabbing at her wrist impulsively, feeling not for the bandana she’d left in her cabin but for the faint discoloration that circled her wrist. The lingering ghost of cold metal that had bitten into her skin. _Show us what you can do._ Chasing the memory away, she dropped her hand from her wrist and tried to divert attention away from the movement. “Every mage grows up learning to fear templars.”

She glared at him in challenge, but his eyes were somber as he held her gaze. She could see the same realization she’d had earlier now dawning on him and, for once, they understood each other perfectly. Solea wanted to lie, to chase away the pitying look in his eyes before he dared to voice any words of sympathy. The memory was too close to the surface, but false words could not chase it away and here was someone who might understand. If she was even partially right about where his scars had come from than Cullen might be one of the only people who could relate to her. The irony of that was not lost on her.

“If what you say is true–” Cullen coughed awkwardly as he broke eye contact. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.” Surprisingly, there was only the slightest condemnation in the words and instead they seemed more a suggestion – a bit of friendly advice from someone who understood.

“Frankly, I didn’t think I’d be welcome after what I’d done.” Solea fidgeted, twirling a knife in her palm. “And I’m still working on controlling myself around templars. It didn’t seem prudent to try and apologize only to lose it and hurt someone else.” Cullen frowned at that and she hastily motioned between the two of them. “The fact that I’m this close to you willingly is a good sign for my improvement though. Although for some reason you are easier to be around than other templars.”

Cullen opened his mouth as if to say something but then snapped his jaw shut and seemed to reconsider. After a moment’s silence he said. “Must be my perky demeanor.”

Solea gaped at him in shock before a startled laugh burst from her chest. “Did you- did you just make a joke?” Cullen looked slightly offended by the surprise in her tone which only made her laugh more and soon he was chuckling with her. They lapsed into silence after that, but it was relaxed and comfortable this time. Solea sat back against her now unused training dummy to watch Cullen practice. She was too drowsy to do more than that.

The rhythmic, precise swings reminded her of times she used to watch her Aunt Aveline train in the Kirkwall Guard’s practice arena. Her aunt’s face, already bright red from exertion, had turned a startling shade of scarlet when she’d discovered Solea watching her. Sneaking away from Gamlen had been easy, but Solea had been too young to hide well enough to escape the Guard-Captain’s sharp gaze. And much too young to be wandering the streets of Kirkwall alone if the lecture she’d received from her aunt taught her anything. Solea smiled fondly at the memory and gently drifted to sleep with her mind on memories of home.

The early morning guards at the entrance into Haven were still rubbing sleep from their eyes when they were greeted by the strangest sight. The Commander of the Inquisition striding through the gate with the Herald of Andraste carried gently in his arms, dead asleep. One of the guards would later swear he even saw her smiling in her sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter but what started out as a small opening scene with my favorite ex-templar evolved into an entire chapter with a life of its own. It just felt right to end this where I did so I'll do my best to get the next bit up as quickly as my little fingers can type it. In Your Heart Shall Burn is up next so the next chapter(s) promises to be long and full of strife because no good author doesn't love dragging their characters through hell :)


	12. Defender

The roaring of victorious celebration filled Haven with sound; the atmosphere was light and carefree after months of worry and preparation. The members of the Inquisition were as tenacious in their partying as they were in battle. Every cup was full, every song was accompanied by a chorus of voices, and around the numerous campfires people danced with friends and strangers alike. Not even the bitter chill of winter could dampen the mood and the air of Haven was brightened by more than just firelight.

Sheltered in the shadows between a building and the wall, Solea felt the jubilant scene draw a smile from her mouth. The Inquisition had certainly earned their celebration. Closing the Breach itself had been decidedly easier than Solea had ever expected given the effort it had taken to get to that point. Only days after the last of the mages from Redcliffe had trickled through the gate, they had assembled on the mountain to lend their power to her. Solea shuddered at the memory of the mass of raw magic she’d channeled to seal the violent wound in the Veil. Her left arm, and especially her palm, still ached from the attempt. The scar on her arm from Redcliffe, though now healed, was an angry red as well.

Flexing her fingers, she tightened the strap of her pack and double checked the hood of her cloak before slipping forward on light feet towards the gate. The sounds of celebrations followed her as she moved, and she was grateful for every step away from the choking crowds of people. Even if she hadn’t been leaving, she would still be headed out of Haven and away from the noise.

Solea had found it surprisingly easy to slip away from everyone in the midst of the partying. Outside of her companions and advisors, few members of the Inquisition had seemed interested in talking to her. She wasn’t sure if it was out of fear, awe, respect or because they simply didn’t like her, but either way it meant little to her. She had not stayed around to make friends; she’d stayed because the Breach needed to be sealed and she was the only one who could do it. It had been the right thing to do and now it was done, she could return to her parents. 

The thought of the chewing out she’d receive when she made it back to them made her wince and she amended her previous thought. She could return to her parents in time. Maybe she could convince her uncle to let her take the long way back. The dwarf had offered to leave with her tonight, but she wasn’t cruel enough to begrudge him a chance to party and spin tales. She had told him to stay and enjoy himself for the night. He would join her tomorrow morning and they would set out while the rest of Haven was nursing their inevitable hangover.

The guards around the gate were lax in their duty, focusing more on the party then keeping watch but even so Solea did not want to risk being spotted. She slipped behind the Veil in an instant, disappearing from mortal sight and stalking towards the gate invisibly. Just as she reached the heavy timber of the sealed gates, an alarm bell rang sharply in the night air. Fear spiked her heartrate and she pulled desperately at the gate, tearing it open just wide enough to slip through.

Solea stopped dead as she almost ran into a stranger standing just on the other side of the gates, his hand raised as if he was about to knock on the wooden gates to demand entrance. A large brimmed hat tipped low over his head concealed most of his face even as he raised his head and stared right at her. Solea felt paralyzed with shock as the boy–he didn’t look more than a few years older than her–addressed her directly. Concealed within the energies of the Fade, she was invisible. How could he see her?

“I’m Cole. I came to warn you, to help.” His voice was soft with a strange almost ethereal cadence to the words that contrasted the desperation in his tone. “People are coming to hurt you…you probably already now.”

Solea felt cold focus flood her body at his words and she shook off all irrelevant questions to be dealt with later. She pulled herself back across the Veil and demanded explanation. “What do you mean? What is going on?”

“The templars come to kill you.” Cole spoke the words simply, but they sent a wave of dread down her spine. For a moment she was sure her worst nightmare had come to life.

“The templars? Is this the Order’s response to our alliance with the mages? Attacking blindly?” Cullen’s incredulous response sounded from behind her and Solea was startled to realize a crowd had gathered behind her as the Inquisition swarmed to find the source of the commotion. She had been so focused on the boy that she hadn’t noticed. So much for her quiet escape from Haven.

Cole flinched back slightly as Cullen stalked towards him angrily. On instinct, Solea threw her hand out, motioning him to stay back, relieved when he obeyed the silent request. Cole continued to explain, his speech now sporadic and rushed. “The red templars went to the Elder One.” Solea flinched at the name and Cole focused on her eagerly. “You know him? He knows you. You took his mages.” He spun around, pointing at the not so distant mountains that surrounded Haven. “There.”

Solea heard Cullen gasp in surprise, an army was swarming down the snowy mountainside towards Haven. The sheer volume of the approaching force was staggering and Solea did a quick estimation of their odds and came to one foreboding conclusion–the Inquisition could not defeat such a foe.

“He’s very angry that you took his mages.” Cole declared.

Desperately, Solea turned to Cullen. He was the Commander of the Inquisition forces and a master strategist; he had to have seen some way out of this that she could not. “We need a plan, Commander. What do we do?”

She watched Cullen visibly shove aside his emotions and dawn a calculating look as his mind plotted battle plans and strategies in an instant. He nodded at her, “I have some ideas.” The Commander turned to begin shouting orders at the troops that had started gathering around him. The alarm bells, which Solea now realized had been a signal of the approaching army and not a warning of her attempted escape, had drawn the Inquisitions forces to the gate. 

Solea stepped to the side, to pull her armor from her pack, and strapped it on as quickly as she could manage. She hadn’t planned on wearing it until tomorrow. Cole stood by her silently watching her with a strange curiosity on his face. She ignored the heavy weight of his gaze on her as she gathered her own small crowd when her various companions made their way to her side. She waited until Varric, Dorian, Solas, Cassandra, Sera and Vivienne were all standing around her before she explained what was happening. Thankfully, none of them commented on the fact she was carrying her full set of armor as well as a pack brimming with supplies.

* * *

If Solea had never seen another speck of red lyrium in her life, it would have been too soon. The experience she’d had with the corrupted crystals in Redcliffe had been enough to last a lifetime but as she stood beside the northern trebuchet outside Haven, a foreboding melody tickled at the back of her mind. She could feel the poisonous aura of a large concentration of the substance getting closer, sending unpleasant tingles through her blood. When the sensation grew through her body to a slightly painful static akin to a muscle falling asleep, she knew that the enemy was close.

“Be ready. They’re here.” Solea sheathed her daggers, drawing her bow and notching an arrow. Whatever strange construction of the enemy that was the source of the red lyrium she felt, she wanted to keep as far away as possible from it.

“My dear, how can you possibly know that?” Vivienne questioned her as she peered into the dark shadows of the woods before them that concealed all enemy movement from their sight.

“Trust me, they’re close.” Solea didn’t waste more words in explanation as she scrambled onto a small rise of snow nearby that would give her a slightly higher vantage point to fire arrows from. 

“Shite! Herald’s right, yeah? There are lights in the trees.” Sera called out, drawing everyone’s attention to the forest. The sight of bobbing red lights amidst the trees growing larger startled everyone into action.

Solea fingered the fletching of her arrow nervously as the templars emerged from the woods in ever increasing numbers. She was no stranger to combat but never before had she been part of a battle on this scale. More horrifying than the scale of the army before her was that her sense of red lyrium was not coming from some large, singular source as she had assumed but rather from every armored form before them. The red lyrium was _inside _the templars, singing to her from their very veins in a sick parody of the normal humming of lyrium she usually sensed in templars. Had these templars been _ingesting _red lyrium?

Before she could process that appalling notion, the first wave of enemies crested the hill in front of the trebuchet and chaos erupted. Her arrows flew as quickly as she could draw them; there was no lacking for targets to aim at. The cranking chorus of Bianca next to her heralded Varric’s participation as he added his own barrage to the fray. Their familiarity ensured they never targeted the same enemy.

The singing call of the red lyrium never faded and despite her best efforts to ignore it, Solea found herself freezing occasionally, her ears straining to catch the tune, her head swaying. It only took a moment or two, and a quick shake of her head, to regain focus but the distractions were dangerous in the midst of battle. Several times she was saved from serious injury only by the quick reactions of Dorian. The Tevinter mage had assumed a strangely defensive position near her at odds with the aggressive fighting style she’d seen from him before. He seemed to be keeping a closer eye on her than even her uncle, which was an impressive feat.

Solea was just starting to wonder how much longer they could hold their position when she reached back for an arrow only to grasp at an empty quiver. Cursing angrily, she sheathed her bow across her back and then drew her daggers. The grips were not as comforting in her palms as usual, the thought alone of getting close enough to use them on any of the red templars was painful. Steeling herself, the young elf took a deep breath and reaffirmed that her blood was calm, lyrium inside slumbering peacefully. If she’d learned anything from Redcliffe, it was that normal lyrium did not react well around its corrupted sibling and she did not want to find out the consequences of using her powers around such large quantities of the stuff.

The groaning swing of the trebuchet flinging its load at the distant mountains halted Solea’s charge into the fray. The swell of success she felt at the small avalanche and the resulting dent in the approaching army it caused was immediately curtailed by the cry of some nameless Inquisition soldier. “The south trebuchet isn’t firing!” 

“On it!” Solea cried in answer and before she could call for help, Dorian and Varric stepped closer to her side. The Seeker took advantage of a lull in the fighting to join them as well but Solea waved off the others before they too could head over. “The rest of you should stay here and keep this position secure. We can’t lose this trebuchet either.”

She let the Seeker lead the way and they found the southern trebuchet surrounded by five red templars and the bodies of several inquisition soldiers littering the snowy ground. The small party charged into battle and Solea found that close quarters combat against red templars was unpleasant but tolerable. They radiated an aura that sent aching pain through her veins, but as long as she avoided direct contact it was bearable. The ever-present song was easier to ignore when she settled into the calm rhythm of battle letting muscle memory and years of hardened instincts dictate her motions rather than conscious thought. 

In only minutes, the clearing was empty and Solea sighed in relief at the respite just in time for Dorian to call out another approaching wave. Solea sensed a larger concentration of red lyrium and watched in horror as a group of red templars was joined by a trio of lumbering monstrosities shambling over a snowy drift and into the clearing. They must have been human at one point, but their bodies had been overrun with red lyrium. Their skin had mutated into a seamless mass of grey flesh broken only by the sharp spikes of red crystals that erupted straight from within. What little armor they wore looked fused with their bodies.

Maker bless Cassandra, the woman never let anything startle her for long. Solea welcomed the woman’s savage battle cry as it startled the rest of her party back into movement. Solea had no desire to get anywhere near the horrors that looked like the terrible offspring of red lyrium and an abomination. She’d gladly stick to the normal red templars. The last thought pulled a dark laugh bubbling up her lips and she was chuckled as she dodged an arrow and sent a bolt of lightning at an enemy archer. 

“What could you possibly be laughing at in a time like this?” Dorian’s incredulous question was audible even over the din of battle. Solea glanced over at him to explain when a warped scream sounded from behind her. She spun around just in time to see one of the monstrous red templars bent over, gripping its head in supposed agony before the red lyrium on its body shattered in a crackling explosion of energy. 

Next thing she knew, Solea was staring at the cloudy night sky from the ground and her side was on fire. Agony worse than anything she’d ever felt before tore a scream from her lungs as she writhed on the ground. Her hands scrabbled desperately for the source and her twitching fingers latched onto a shard of red lyrium that was embedded just above her left hip. She tore it out desperately, hands unsteady from the pain, and flung it away. The pain lessened immediately, and she rolled onto her hands and knees, her stomach heaving as she promptly threw up the remnants of the celebration feast.

The young rogue did not waste time scrambling to her feet the moment she got her gut under control. The battle would not wait politely for her to recover. The rest of her companions were busy fighting although Varric was throwing concerned glances her way. He looked relieved to see her on her feet and shouted over the din of fighting, “Flicker, the trebuchet.” Solea turned to see a clear area around it and headed for the wheel on the side that would arm the machine. As she moved, she tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of her tunic and stuffed it into the new hole in her armor. She didn’t have time to put together a sturdier bandage so that would have to do for now.

The wooden wheel of the trebuchet was heavy and harder to turn than she anticipated. Solea cranked it around as fast as she could, mumbling curses under her breath the whole time as each movement pulled at the wound in her side. She could feel the blood soaking through her hasty bandage. Her back was exposed to attack, but she trusted her companions to cover it, or at least give a warning if she was under attack.

With a final heaving twist of the wheel, the trebuchet fired and sent another small avalanche of snow swarming over the opposing army. The surrounding soldiers let out a victorious cry but just as Solea felt hope springing in her chest, a piercing shriek erupted into the night air and a dragon, a freaking _dragon_, swooped out of nowhere. She had just enough time to dive off the platform before a violent stream of flame shot from the dragon’s maw and incinerated the wooden trebuchet instantly.

“Maker’s breath, was that a dragon?” Cassandra seemed to be just as unsure as Solea felt as she lurched to her feet, brushing off snow from her armor. Varric seemed less surprised and more exasperated by the dragon’s appearance.

“Of course, it’s a bloody dragon.” He scoffed and pointed an accusing finger at Solea. “This is exactly the kind of thing your mother would attract.”

“Fenhedis, Uncle, it’s not like I summoned it here on purpose.”

“Perhaps it would be best if we continued this conversation from the safety of somewhere that isn’t, well, here.” Dorian interrupted. “I don’t fancy my chances out here with a dragon about.” Cassandra nodded in agreement with his statement.

“The Inquisition forces will be regrouping in the chantry. We can plan our next steps there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from the dead (again lol). I really should stop kidding myself by thinking I'll ever post regular updates but I'm trying my best I swear. 
> 
> I'm so happy to finally have Cole enter the story but he might be one of the most difficult characters to write because what even is his dialogue?


	13. Sacrificer

The day of the Kirkwall rebellion was etched across Solea’s memories like etchings on a wall, so real she could describe it again in perfect detail. She could remember the weight of the smoke pulling on her lungs as it burned her nostrils and left its acrid taste on her tongue. She could hear the screams of terror and pain as mages and templars slaughtered each other in the streets. She could see the scarlet blood pooling beneath still warm bodies that littered the street like discarded trash; she had nightmares where the unfamiliar faces on the ground became her parents, her aunts and uncles. Most of all, she remembered the chaos of it all, the sheer unbridled fear so thick in the air you could almost taste it as people fled the destruction, desperate for safety in whatever direction it might be. 

The assault on Haven left that same sharp taste in her mouth, the same smoky burn in her lungs, and the air was just as thick with desperation. As she guided the fleeing members of the Inquisition towards the Chantry building, saving people caught in burning buildings or tripped by debris, there was a moment where instead of wooden walls she saw the towering stone fortress of the Gallows. She blinked hard and the Haven Chantry returned looking small and plain next to the memory of the foreboding building that had been the last sight she’d had of Kirkwall. The comparison did not bode well for the outcome of this battle.

She could see the despair in Cullen’s eyes as they discussed options with her fighting companions. They, including Cole—who had suddenly reappeared aiding an injured Chancellor Roderick—were gathered just inside the door to the Chantry, trying to keep their grim conversation unheard by the rest of the Inquisition. As if by hiding the fact they were all going to die would somehow make it better.

“Yes, that.” Cole spoke up suddenly from where he was knelt on the ground. “Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.” The dying man explained about a secret tunnel in the Chantry that lead out of Haven, an escape route. Solea felt a glimmer of light, of hope, through the once bleak outlook. If the people of the Inquisition could be led down this path, then they could use Cullen’s plan to cause a massive avalanche as a distraction while everyone else fled.

She turned to the Commander, “Will it work?”

Ever pragmatic he replied, “Possibly, but how will the person firing the trebuchet escape?”

_The Elder one doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald._ Cole’s words from just moments ago echoed so loudly in her head that Solea spun to face him, thinking he’d repeated them aloud. The boy’s, or well spirit was probably a more accurate term, green eyes were locked on hers, eerily similar in shade to the swirling fade energy she sensed around him. Doubtful as she had been initially about his presence, he’d shown nothing but the desire to help since his arrival. As she read the sympathy in his gaze, she found herself trusting him.

Whatever he was, Cole had come to the same conclusion she had, that there was only one way for all these people to survive, and he seemed inexplicably distressed about it. The small spark of hope, lit upon hearing of the escape tunnel, was extinguished in a puff of smoke that she exhaled in a sigh. She looked at Cullen, ready to volunteer and tell him to lead the Inquisition to its escape but before she could even open her mouth, her uncle’s sharp words cut her off.

“No. No. Not in a thousand lifetimes.” Varric’s voice was harsher than she had ever heard before and it made her flinch before she schooled her features into a mask of steely resolve. “I know that face. Maker forbid, I’ve seen it on your mother’s face enough times.”

“Uncle.” Solea pleaded, but the endearment didn’t soften him like it usually did. Creators, this was already hard enough to do without him looking at her like that.

“No, Solea. You can’t do this.” Varric’s voice was gruff but she caught the glimmer of moisture in his eyes as he blinked. “You’re just a _kid, _Flicker.” His voice choked on her nickname and she could feel the words he wanted to say but couldn’t, words about her parents, her family, that current company wouldn’t allow.

Solea felt a sharp pang in her heart but her resolve didn’t waver. She had to do this; she was the only one who could distract the Elder One long enough for everyone to escape. Sacrificing herself to save the Inquisition was the logical choice, the only choice. After all, she was a Hawke, and a Hawke always did the right thing; no matter how much it hurt, _especially_ when it hurt.

She scanned the room looking for support, hoping someone else could help tell her uncle that this had to be done. Most of her companions looked equal parts horrified and guilty, as if they had realized that her sacrifice was the best tactic but then immediately felt bad for thinking it. A thunderous roar shook the walls of the Chantry as if the dragon was reminding her that time was running out for the people of Haven.

She studied the stubborn set of Varric’s jaw, remembering a different Varric, from a different time, whose red eyes had crackled with determination as he marched to his death to give her the chance to escape. She saw that same gleam in his eyes now, and she knew. He would not be swayed. She would either flee with him or he would be fighting with her every step of the way, just as he had numerous times with her parents.

She would not let him die for her, not again. Solea had started this whole fiasco of an adventure to save her uncle and she wasn’t going to fail now. She refused to watch another person sacrifice themselves for her. This left her with only one option, and she moved before she could overthink it. “I’m sorry, Uncle.” She muttered as she grasped Varric’s head firmly in her hands. He had just enough time for his eyes to widen in surprise before she sent a controlled shock through her hands, knocking him unconscious instantly.

She guided the dwarf’s limp body to the ground, cradling his head gently. She looked up to find the circle of her companions staring at her in stunned silence. She didn’t bother to explain her actions, none of them would fully understand anyways. “Commander, you’ll need two people to carry him through the escape tunnel. He won’t wake up for a while.” She stood up, avoiding the sight of her uncle’s unconscious body on the ground. “And tell him when he wakes up that if he writes another book about this, I’m going to come back and haunt his ass.” Before anyone could say a word, she strode towards the Chantry door and stepped back out into the chaos. She had never been good at saying goodbye.

* * *

The skies over Haven darkened, a swirl of storm clouds gathering in the night sky, blocking out the light of the moon. Solea sent a boost of her mana to strengthen the rising energy in the storm she was building. It was vital to her plan. She needed to be as loud and distracting as possible to give everyone time to escape. She had to keep the Elder One’s attention focused solely on her. To this end, she had called the lyrium in her blood forth and let her veins radiate blue light. It reflected off the snow blanketing the ground around the central trebuchet. She had to be impossible to miss, glowing like a beacon in the evening’s shadows. 

She was alone in the clearing, surrounded only by the scattered corpses of red templars that had tried to stop her. The squad of Inquisition soldiers, sent by Cullen to help her aim the trebuchets, had just left. She didn’t want to risk them being caught out with no time to escape. All that was left was to aim the last trebuchet towards its target and she could manage that on her own.

The wooden handle creaked in protest as she turned it but yielded beneath her strength. Solea could sense an approaching wave of enemies, their corrupted blood grating against her senses. She waited, wound in her side pulsing in time to her heartbeat, until she felt they were close enough. She unleashed the storm she’d been holding back, calling the brimming lightning forth. In immediate response, a bolt shot down from the sky, searing a red templar with a resounding boom that echoed off the mountains. If they somehow hadn’t seen her, they would definitely hear her.

Such flashy, unbridled displays of magical power were not her style or her strong suit. Solea didn’t have a lot of experience with larger spells so she didn’t bother pretending she control it—content to let the storm rain down deadly electricity indiscriminately. One thunderbolt arrowed down a couple feet from her position near the trebuchet but, unconcerned, she siphoned the current to her body, wreathing herself in a cloak of crackling purple-white energy.

The trebuchet spun lurchingly in response to the wheel, the noise drowned out by the thunderous cacophony of the storm, and Solea was just starting to think this might be easier than she felt tremors in the ground and a spike in her senses that indicated an approaching threat. Releasing the wheel, she turned to find a staggering monstrosity lumbering towards her, seemingly unbothered by the lightning dancing down around it. The monster towered over her, ten feet of corrupted crystal, one hand shaped in a crude approximation of a blade that was so long it dragged along the ground as the creature lumbered forward.

“I’m starting to think Varric was right about bad luck running in my blood.” Solea muttered to herself as she drew her blades. The beast’s size made it slow and she dodged its heavy blows with ease, but her daggers did nothing against the creature’s crystalline flesh. Not surprising, given its appearance. Thinking on her feet, she began blasting away at the crystals with magic, shattering bits of them away and hoping she would expose something vulnerable within. Perhaps a giant flashing arrow that said, ‘stab here’. 

Her wound throbbed angrily in her side as she moved, which was probably a bad sign, but the hasty poultice she’d made earlier had stopped the bleeding, so she didn’t worry too much. The behemoth let out a distorted cry of rage as she exploded another chunk of crystal off. Solea flinched at the earsplitting sound, barely rolling out of the way of the swinging arm which slammed into the ground with a boom. When she regained her feet, she found herself encircled by a ring of red lyrium.

Her blood burned, but the lyrium lighting her veins with every rapid heartbeat boosted her magic, and she quickly pushed a wave of spirit energy out in a circle, shattering the crystals. Relying on her magic to fight was bizzare after going so long without using it, but there was an invigorating freedom in channeling the flow of natural power that she usually kept carefully hidden. Eager to finish off the hulking behemoth, she reached into the Fade with her mind and summoned a massive boulder, bigger than she’d ever attempted before. She took only a moment to admire the fact that it was nearly as tall as its victim before she sent it hurtling at the behemoth.

The crystalline creature exploded into a thousand shards, disintegrating beneath the force of the stone she’d thrown at it. Solea flung herself onto the floor to avoid the flying pieces, as they rained down around her. Sensing the coast was now clear, she returned to the laborious process of aiming the trebuchet. The storm she’d summoned began dissipating without her magic to power it. Finally, the trebuchet was aligned, its payload directed at the mountain towering over Haven.

An ear-shattering roar announced the return of the dragon and sent Solea scrambling for cover. A gout of flames chased her, igniting the barrels of oil stacked by the trebuchet in an explosion that sent her flying off her feet. Her ears ringing, she lay in the cold snow disoriented and dizzy with a small trickle of blood leaking from her ears. When the world stopped spinning, she lurched upwards, desperate to see if the trebuchet was still intact. Miraculously, the wooden structure had escaped any severe damage despite the flaming debris scattered about or the spreading pool of burning oil.

As if things weren’t bad enough, the dragon swooped down to land in front of her with another thunderous cry that pummeled Solea’s sensitive elven ears. Seeing it flying overhead had been terrifying but standing face to face with a dragon was a heart stopping lesson in fear. Solea’s mother had told her stories about the high dragon she’d fought at the Bone Pit but even with the help of Varric’s master storytelling skills, Solea had not truly appreciated how impressive a feat it was. Unfortunately, unlike the ‘Hawke family luck’ as Varric liked to call it, she didn’t think dragon slaying was a hereditary trait.

Before her terror-stricken mind could even attempt to come up with a plan to fight a _dragon_, a deep voice cried out, “Enough.” Surprised yet again, Solea turned to see a strange man, creature, thing, striding through the flames towards her. It gestured at the dragon which backed off slightly from her, although the extra space didn’t lessen her fear. The stranger than continued speaking and he, it, whatever, was probably saying something really important but she could only half listen as she took in its appearance. It looked like a man in the same way that the crystalline horrors had looked like red templars. He reminded her of what her Uncle Anders had described darkspawn like, which had horrifying implications enough without the red lyrium she could see fused beneath his flesh. 

“Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus!” The phrase ‘the Elder One’ drew Solea’s attention out of her own rambling thoughts as she realized she finally had a name to assign her enemy, the man responsible for the apocalyptic future. ‘The Elder One’ was an obnoxiously arrogant title and one she was happy to never say again. Suddenly, the man pointed at her insolently and coinciding with her notions of his arrogance he commanded, “You will kneel.”

“I’d rather not. The snow is cold.” She responded with sarcasm reflexively, shrugging like it couldn’t be helped. “Try coming back in the summer when it’s melted.”

He didn’t seem bothered by her flippant tone. “I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it begins now.” Solea had only a split second to appreciate that the mark on her hand had an actual name besides ‘the mark’ before Corypheus drew out a strange orb wreathed in red energy in one hand and thrust his other out towards her. The Anchor ignited on her hand in a blaze of green light that accompanied a blaze of agony in her hand, like someone was trying to split it apart.

Solea clutched at her left forearm as her hand begin shaking violently. A strange magical energy gathered in her palm, an energy that was nothing like her own. Collapsing to her knees from the pain, she realized that the Anchor possessed its own brand of magic that had laid dormant until now. In his attempt to remove it, Corypheus was drawing the Anchor’s magic forth, causing a violent reaction as it clashed with her own. The strange new magic in her body stretched out, fighting for new space in her body to claim but she pushed back against it, not wanting it to spread.

Fighting an internal battle, Solea was still aware that she had to keep Corypheus distracted until she saw the signal. He’d was lecturing on about his grand plans, unconcerned by her obvious discomfort until she collapsed onto all fours on the ground. Desperate to keep him talking, Solea spit out the first question that came to mind while she focused on confining the magic of the Anchor to her hand.

She thought she was doing a good job, even as at one point he snatched her up by her left hand and held her dangling helplessly in the air. Terror was her constant friend, and fear of death was pumping right along with the adrenaline in her veins but more than dying she was afraid of dying at the wrong time. Where the hell was that bloody signal anyways? 

Corypheus seemed more interested in monologuing than killing her at the moment, and despite the fact that she knew she wouldn’t be alive long enough for it to matter, she couldn’t help but latch on to every bit of information. Her memories regarding how exactly she’d obtained the Anchor on her hand were still gone and she was eager to know anything about it, even if her source was clearly insane.

Midsentence, Corypheus shouted in frustration and flung her aside carelessly, sending her colliding against the side of the trebuchet. “The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling.” He stalked towards her, his dragon hovering behind him menacingly as Solea dragged herself to her feet, body aching with the promises of bruising along her back. “So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation—and god—it requires. And you. I will not suffer a rival, even an ignorant child like you. You must die.”

A flash of movement behind Corypheus’ shoulder drew her attention and Solea saw the unmistakable trail of a fire arrow streaking upwards from the snowy mountains behind Haven. The signal, the Inquisition had made it out safely. Relief swamped her, the Anchor had calmed and now there was only one thing left for her to do. Wasting no time, she spun and kicked the release lever of the trebuchet, sending the payload rocketing towards the mountain she’d painstakingly aimed it at.

“If your plan was to talk me to death you were doing great.” Solea heard the rumbling boom of the trebuchet hitting its mark and took great pleasure in the surprise on Corypheus’ face. “But I’m going to have to cut you off right here.” The increasing roar of sound drew her eyes and she finally watched in awe as a rolling tsunami of snow swept towards them at startling speed.

Solea had accepted that this plan required her death, had tried to make her peace with it amidst the scrambled planning and chaos of Haven’s destruction. Faced with the reality of the oncoming avalanche, she was surprised to find that along with fear, she felt the burning primeval urge to survive. Her mind was resigned to her fate, but her body fought to live and before she realized it, she was sprinting away. There was no outrunning the torrent of snow but as the ground shuddered beneath her, Solea made a last desperate dive towards the crumbling remains of a building. Just before the avalanche overtook her, the young elf had a moment of regret—her last conversation with her parents had been an argument—then everything went black.


	14. Survivor

Pain was the first sense that returned to her. Nerves from every part of her body lighting up to inform her that she was in a lot of pain. For a moment it was the only thing her world consisted of, but she slowly became aware of another feeling—she was freezing. That thought seemed to be the magic password that opened the rest of her mind because her other senses returned in an instant and she opened her eyes.

Solea was lying in a pile of snow and broken wood in the middle of an icy cavern and she was _alive_. Despite everything, she was alive, and for a moment she simply watched the white clouds of her breath rise as she appreciated that fact. Only briefly, because she knew if she wanted to stay alive, she needed to move. Getting up seemed a good place to start.

Trying to push herself up with her arms resulted in a spike of agony in her right arm and she collapsed back down with a scream. Sucking in a few quick breaths to fight back a wave of nausea, she carefully propped herself up on her left elbow and examined her right arm. Solea let out a string of curse words. She was positive her arm was not supposed to bend that way. As her sluggish mind began to pick up speed, the pain signals from her body began to organize themselves and she discovered another problem to accompany her broken arm.

A large wooden pole, broken off from the building that had fallen down with her, was pinning her left thigh to the ground. She did a quick inventory of the rest of her body and discovered that she had no other serious injuries besides the preexistent wound to her side. Her body ached all over from the battering she must have taken on the way down but minor cuts and bruises she could handle. A broken arm and a large puncture wound were more problematic. For what was certainly not going to be the last time, she cursed her inability to cast even the simplest of healing spells. Not that it would work on her anyways.

Despair dragged her back down and she stared up at the rocky ceiling hopelessly. She was freezing cold—probably suffering early hypothermia—severely injured, and she had no idea how to get out of here, if there was even an exit. She hadn’t even known there was a cave system beneath Haven; although learning things she didn’t know was a reoccurring theme that night. Assuming there was a way out that hadn’t caved in from the avalanche, she had to be miles away from the nearest help, and no one would be looking for her. She was supposed to be dead; she might as well be dead.

A faint whimper echoing in the silence of the cavern jolted Solea out of her depressing thoughts and her head spun towards the sound, ears twitching slightly. A slight wobbling in a nearby pile of wood followed by another whimper told her she was not alone in the cave. The idea of some poor, helpless creature trapped and injured was more than she could bear. She had to get it out. It didn’t sound far away, but she would have to walk to reach it, which meant fixing her current predicament.

Goal in mind, she began addressing her injuries with clinical efficiency, her actions guided by the calm, instructive voice of Anders in her head. As always, she felt the swirling mix of emotions when she thought of him. She’d been furious at his betrayal, but heartbroken as well. Memories of the horrors she’d seen during the fall of Kirkwall fought against countless memories of late nights in the dingy little clinic in Darktown as he taught her the art of healing—even without magic. She remembered his kind, patient face but she also remembered the horrified look of betrayal on her mother’s face. Partial possession or not, Anders had broken their family that day, and Solea wasn’t sure she could ever forgive him for that.

Still, his was the voice she heard, guiding her actions, as she gripped the base of the wood pole stuck through her thigh.She would have to leave it in until she found a healer because the wood in her leg was the only thing keeping her from bleeding out. Unfortunately, the part lodged into the ground was also keeping her from moving. She snapped it off quickly with her left hand, muffling a cry of pain into the fabric of her shoulder as the wood moved around in her leg. 

Leg free, Solea could sit up easier and set upon the next task of fixing a sling for her right arm. She had to sacrifice her outer shirt for the sling which dramatically increased the chill to her body. To compensate, and too exhausted and in pain to maintain control, she let out the lyrium in her blood which helped illuminate the room in a blue glow and slightly raised her body temperature. She wished she could summon a fireball like Dorian could, but this would have to do for now.

The cave had fallen silent as Solea staggered towards the debris pile, slightly unsteady on her injured leg which burned with every step. She began heaving pieces of wood aside until she spotted a small scrap of black fur peaking from beneath the pile. She reached down with her good arm, stretching out her fingers until she grasped a handful of skin and fur and yanked the creature out. She cradled the small animal to her chest as it let out a pitiful whine and she looked down into the yellow eyes of a tiny Mabari puppy.

Solea shrieked, dropping the dog instantly and scrambled backwards frantically. “No, no, no, no no. Get away.” Her hands shook and the braying of hounds echoed in her ear, two matching crescent scars on her calf ached with remembered pain. She didn’t know it was a _dog_, would never have picked it up had she known. The puppy looked shocked to find itself suddenly on the ground and she eyed it warily as she edged around it, hugging the cave wall at her back. She scooted hurriedly away, desperate to put space between them.

She felt open air behind her and sighed with relief, the exit was behind her. As if just realizing her intention to leave, the puppy scampered towards her—or it would have, except its front right leg gave out beneath it, sending it tumbling forwards to bash its nose against the ground. Overwhelmed, the tiny pup struggled onto its hindquarters, crooked its head up and let out a long soft noise, that was probably supposed to be a howl, and followed it up with a string of equally pathetic cries.

“Would you quit that.” Solea scolded sharply, wary of what else might be in the caves. To her surprise, the dog immediately stopped, its mouth snapping shut and its head tilting sideways as it watched her. She met its gaze and froze, seized by the sharp yellow eyes. There was a feral note in the Mabari’s eyes—despite its age—that bespoke of the deadly killer it would become if it lived into adulthood. It sent a shiver down her spine and she glanced away, looking instead at the wreckage littering the ground. 

Somewhere in the piles of broken wood and shattered stone were the bodies of its mother and siblings. Against all odds, this small helpless thing was alive and staring at it perched among the remains of Haven, she found herself unable to walk away. This creature was a survivor, like her, alive despite everything stacked against it that said it should have perished with the rest of its kind tonight. She couldn’t leave it here to freeze to death and she couldn’t, she could _not_ let another life end tonight because of Corypheus.

Her hands were still shaking with fear as she reached down to scoop the small bundle of fur up with her good hand. She hesitated momentarily, waiting for it to bite at her hand. When the puppy just hung there, staring at her, she slipped it in her makeshift sling, carefully lying it atop her broken arm with a wince. Hopefully, it would be insulated enough that her body heat would keep the puppy warm. “Don’t squirm.” She warned it, and she’d heard before that Mabari could understand speech, but she was still surprised when the pup settled comfortably against her side and then didn’t move again. The feel of against her body sent a shiver of revulsion down her spine but she pushed it resolutely to the side.

All she had to do now was find a way to the surface, however far away it was. _Well, I won’t know unless I start_. Solea let out a sigh and then trudged towards the only opening in the cave wall. Her left thigh shrieked in complaint with every step as it jostled the wood lodged in her leg, but she pushed forward. She would not let pain trap her down in this icy tomb.

The ground beneath her feet was frigid stone but thankfully free of ice. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she slipped and fell. The longer she walked, the more she wondered about the caves around her, letting her mind focus on the mystery instead of the small breaths of the deadly creature whose sharp teeth were inches away from the soft flesh of her belly. 

Stone turned into aged wooden pathways beneath her toes. Natural curved ceilings were replaced by man-made stone arches and periodically the walls of the tunnels were supported by wooden braces. Then, Solea rounded a curve into a large cavern that lit up in a flash of green as a small rift tore open, spat out three despair demons, and then sealed shut with a bang. It took her a second to fully comprehend the threat, a testament to her exhaustion, and then she realized how screwed she was. There was no way she was going to be able to fight in her current condition.

Solea’s only hope was magic; if she had the energy to cast a spell. She lifted her left hand but before she could try anything, her palm flared a vibrant green and a burst of strange magic exploded from her hand. The Anchor’s magic, that she had tampered down earlier, erupted forth. The sensation was unlike any other spellcasting she’d done previously—the energy was a part of her but also so foreign to her body. A small rift ripped open above the demons, as the magic tore through the Veil like a knife through butter.

The area around the rift flickered, the air distorting wildly around the small pocket of the Fade that surged forth, brimming with spirit magic. The demons were stunned and Solea watched in fascination as the small, green rift crackled and pulsed wildly. It seemed to suck in the demons caught in its pull, drawing them together as the magic of the Fade tore at their forms. Against the raw energy of the fade, the demons were no more solid than sand in the wind, and they were pulled apart, grain by grain. Seconds later, the rift collapsed in on itself, disappearing with snap and leaving no trace of the despair demons behind.

_What the hell was that._ Solea stared at the Anchor in fascination as the green light dimmed and the alien magic settled back in her arm. The dissipating magic took a relatively small drain on her stamina, much less than she’d expect from a spell of that magnitude. As helpful as it had been, she wasn’t sure she liked the feel of the strange magic, especially when she didn’t know how to control it. She had so many questions and resolved to learn more later, perhaps Solas or Dorian—who knew much more that her about the intricacies of magic—would be able to help.

She met no more demons in the caves and after only a couple of dead ends, Solea emerged from the stale underground air into wide open space once more. A howling blizzard greeted her with a biting slap of snowy wind to her face and she flinched back in alarm. Solea shivered at the cold, wishing for the extra layer from the shirt she’d used for a sling. The pup whimpered slightly in response to the drop in temperature, and Solea was two tired after a couple hours, by her estimation, of stumbling through caves to respond to the spike of fear at the noise. “It’s alright, _dharlin_. We came this far, we aren’t gonna let a little snow hold us back.” 

The sight of a broken-down wagon half-buried in snow filled Solea with a warm hope. The Inquisition must have passed this way, which meant they had emerged somewhere along the pass which wound between two mountains. Now all she had to do was follow their trail and catch up with them, in the middle of the night, in a snowstorm, with numerous injuries. “Nothing can ever just be easy.” She muttered as she began trudging forward through the thick, waist-high snow. 

Visibility in the blizzard was almost nonexistent, even with her lyrium glow bouncing off the white snow around her, she couldn’t see more than 10 feet in front of her. Any path the Inquisition might have left behind was quickly being covered up by the snow, which was thankfully only knee high in most places. Still, Solea knew that if she kept climbing upwards, she was heading in the right direction—so that’s what she did. One foot after the other, left than right in an endless repetition.

Each step felt like its own battle and the longer she walked the more she lost the energy to do anything else but focus on moving one leg after the other. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Every step of forward motion was a victory, but every victory has a cost—a bit more of her energy gone and the pain increasing as the movement tore at her wounds. 

Left foot.

Agony radiated from her thigh.

Right foot.

The ache in her broken arm spiked as it was jostled by her movement.

Left foot.

She clung to thoughts of Varric, of the apology she would owe him. He’d be furious and so horribly _guilty_ if she didn’t make it. She couldn’t even bear to think of how her parents would feel.

Right foot.

Solea passed the still warm remains of a campfire and almost cried with relief. She was going the right way.

Left foot.

Solea kept going long past when her body decided it had gone far enough. She trudged forward with a stubborn determination, making achingly slow progress through the snow. She would not be killed by a measly snowstorm.

Right foot. 

The cold that had whipped at her clothes when she’d first stumbled outside had seeped into her body until she felt it all the way in her bones. It leeched away at everything until there was nothing left—not the passage of time, or the pain from her wounds, or the lyrium flowing through her veins. Her body was numb, her mind sluggish. Even the thoughts in her mind seemed to freeze. There was nothing but the cold, nothing but the repetition.

Left foot. Right foot.

A sudden blossom of warmth at her side. Her hand drops from where it is blocking the wind. It comes back red—the wound has reopened. She keeps her hand pressed against it and the warm blood is burning hot against her frozen fingers. There is no time to stop and bandage it, if she stops moving now, she’ll never start again.

Left foot. Right foot.

Large shadows on the edge of her vision sharpen into the shape of trees as she gets closer. The ground evens out until it is almost flat. She has reached the highest point of the pass.

Left foot.

The blizzard finally dies down. The wind stops. The cold does not.

Right foot.

She passes another recent campfire. Some coals are still orange. The light of hope is not warm enough to melt the cold.

Left foot.

The blue glow on the snow flickers now. On and off. Light and dark. The brief periods of dark feel colder.

Right foot.

She wonders if the Mabari is still alive. She doesn’t check; she doesn’t want to know. 

Left foot.

The mountains are closing in. Rocky peaks encroaching on the narrowing path. The ground slopes down ahead. The blue light is gone more than it is not.

Right foot.

Another campfire. The embers are still glowing.

Left foot.

Mountain on either side, snow below, cold within, ahead the flickering warm light of dozens of campfires. Warmth ahead. Voices call out from the warmth; her ears are too cold for words to reach them. Blue light flares out brighter than ever, calling out where mouth and tongue cannot.

Right foot.

The blue light goes out. Darkness hides everything.

Left foot.

The blue light does not return. 

Right knee. Left knee.

Blackness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dharlin" = puppy in Dalish


	15. Vigil

An avalanche of snow crashed over Haven, swallowing the town whole, and far above in the Frostback Mountains, Varric Tethras collapsed to his knees. He watched the destruction in horror, immobile—as if the frosty mountain winds had frozen him solid—praying, hoping that if he didn’t take his eyes away, it could just be a terrible dream. If he didn’t see the sad, pitying looks of those around him, he could pretend this was a nightmare; that Solea was right behind him, ready to tell him that if he kept worrying, he was going to develop grey hairs.

But there was no mocking laugh, no youthful voice calling out ‘uncle’ and all he could see was her expression the moment he realized what she was going to do. Maker forbid he’d seen that look on Hawke’s face enough times to recognize it instantly; the look that said she was willing to die for what was right, to save lives. It always hurt him to see it, to see how willingly, and repeatedly, the young woman had put her life in danger to protect a city that was never grateful, always asking more. Seeing that same expression on Solea’s face, it had broken his heart. In that moment—despite the long nose, pointed ears and sharp elvish features—Solea had never looked more like her mother. 

Varric didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the buried remains of Haven, but when a shiver of cold stirred him to look away, an entire camp of tents had sprung up behind him. Apparently, the Inquisition would travel no further that night. He didn’t know what he looked like, but people moved out of his way as he marched through camp, grabbing a blanket, a flagon of ale, and fuel for a fire. 

He built his fire just outside the group of tents, with a clear view of the mountain pass, and rolled a barrel out for a seat. There he sat, the cold wind nipping at his nose as he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He took a sip of ale, letting it warm him from the inside. He’d left Bianca in the tent they’d put up for him, she’d be safe from damage from the cold there, but now, he longed for the familiar wood to run his hands along as he waited. He kept his eyes fixed on the rocky shelves in front of him. He would not move from this spot until he saw Flicker come striding through the snow, or the rising blizzard froze him to the barrel.

It was no more than he deserved. He’d promised himself, promised Hawke and Broody when they’d named him godfather, that he would protect her, keep her safe, that he wouldn’t let Kirkwall destroy her like it had so many others—like it had done to her mother. He’d been doing a shit job of that lately, and now she’d run off, ignored him, and gone and- and done something so idiotic it was truly worthy of the Hawke family name. 

Shit, Hawke, he’d have to send her another letter, tell her and Fenris they didn’t have to come to Haven anymore because their daughter was- because Solea was- Varric choked on the thought and tears ran hot down his face as he buried it into his hands. There was no one but the moon and the roaring winds to witness as the dwarf broke down into choking sobs. How could he tell his best friends that their daughter, their _fifteen_-year-old daughter, was dead? How could he admit that he had failed yet again?

Sometime later, when Sera approached the light of his fire, she found Varric staring at the pass once more, eyes dry and rubbing his knuckles absently. “That was bloody brilliant, that.” She commented, nodding at his hand where the skin was split from punching a certain Commander who’d been just a little too close when he’d awoken to find himself far away from Haven, Solea gone. Varric smirked slightly, it had been an impressive feat, pulling the towering man down so his fist could meet his face. Sera didn’t stay for long, just enough to comment on how ‘shite’ the weather was and how she hoped the red templars were ‘freezing in their britches’.

“She was all right, yeah? Not as elfy as you’d expect.” Sera declared just before making her way back to the main camp. “I hope she comes back.” Varric stared at her retreating back in slight shock. Sera had not been with the Inquisition long, had not known Solea very well, but that was the most sincere, serious thing he’d heard the elf say. 

Not five minutes after Sera left, his silent vigil was interrupted by the approach of Vivienne. Even after hours of marching through the mountain and a blizzard, she still managed to look perfectly put together. her outfit was spotless. Varric eyed her warily, he wasn’t particularly fond of the mage or her tendency to give condescending lectures to Solea about how much more she could have learned about magic from a Circle. Solea had complained to him several times about her but when he’d asked her why she put up with it she’d stated simply.

“Josephine says she’s important, that she can help, and I’m not going to be the reason why she leaves. To save the world, I can put up with a few boring lectures from an arrogant mage.”

Varric himself was under no such obligation and waited silently for her to say whatever she’d come to say. Vivienne did not waste any time; it was not in her nature. “I’m so sorry, dear. It is such a terrible thing to happen to a young mage. She had so much potential. If only she’d had more time.” She seemed to wait for a response, but he couldn’t find any words to say. He would not accept her sympathies. Doing so was admitting Flicker was dead, and he couldn’t do that. When the silence continued, Vivienne laid a hand briefly on his shoulder before turning and disappearing back into the snowy wind.

He did not hear his next visitor approach. One second he was alone and the next, Cole was sitting beside him. Varric jumped, nearly toppling off the barrel. “Andraste’s tit, Kid, you can’t sneak up on people like that.”

“I’m sorry. You needed help. Watching, waiting, praying, hoping, she has to come back.” Cole streamed out words almost like he didn’t know what he was going to say until it came out of his mouth. “She is strong. Two worlds, one body. The old song is strong, but it sings different in her. She hears better than most, sees better. Eyes shining, blue light glowing, growing, glimmering, flickering, Flicker.”

Varric stared at the young boy, whose wide-brimmed hat whipped dangerously in the strong wind, in complete shock. “What the hell?”

Cole seemed to contemplate this, “She is…strange, unique…special.” He said it like she was a confusing puzzle he was trying to solve. “I’m not sure that helps.”

“Kid, you don’t know the half of it.” Varric chuckled, a small smile springing on his face as he remembered all the weird things he’d seen Flicker do. The sound of approaching footsteps made Varric glance back.

“Varric, who were you talking to? The snow?” Dorian said.

Varric glanced around to the empty space around him where he’d been sitting alone since Vivienne had left. “No one.”

Dorian shrugged carelessly before offering up a steaming bowl of stew and a hunk of bread. “I thought you might like some food and a bit of _pleasant_ company.” Clearly, he had seen Vivienne returning from her visit to Varric’s little outpost.

Varric chuckled, “I won’t say no if you’re sharing whatever is in there.” He gestured at the flask tucked under the Tevinter’s arm. “Pull up a chair, Sparkler.” The warm food was heavenly, a balm against the cold, and it helped ease the exhaustion that had begun to settle behind his eyes. They ate in silence, at first, but Varric could feel the mage casting glances over at him, a barely restrained question at his lips. “Alright Sparkler, go ahead, what’s on your mind?”

Dorian didn’t hesitate. “Is the Champion of Kirkwall really her mother?” The question was so unexpected that Varric almost choked on his food and barely managed to keep his cool as he swallowed carefully. He had a lie ready on his tongue, but Dorian went on before he could speak. “I saw Fenris at Redcliffe, in the future. She called him her father but at the time I didn’t really think much on it. Now, though…” He trailed off and shrugged helplessly.

Varric sighed, fatigue pulling him back down like an anchor. He could try and lie, misdirect from the truth, but Dorian was smart, and he was just too tired, physically and emotionally, to tell another story. “Yeah.” He said, “Yeah, she is.”

Dorian didn’t seem surprised. Varric’s word was just confirmation of something he’d already figured out, but his eyes were bright with curiosity. “How is that possible?” Varric lifted an eyebrow mockingly but Dorian waved him off. “I know _how_ obviously, it’s just- she looks so elven and everyone knows that elf-blooded humans always exhibit human physiology.”

“I don’t get it either.” Varric shrugged helplessly. “Best guess it has to do with her father. If you met him, you know he’s not exactly your typical elf.”

“Fascinating.” Dorian spaced out for a bit, seemingly contemplating this and Varric recognized the sign of an intellectual pursuing a line of thought. He’d met enough scholars to know the look well. He waited patiently for the inevitable swarm of technical questions that were bound to follow and was surprised when Dorian seemed to shake himself and instead said, “I’m sorry Varric, you probably don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“Better than anything else to pass the time. These kinds of situations always call for booze and conversation.”

“Have a lot of experience with waiting for someone to escape certain death?” Dorian said, the question only half serious.

Varric snorted, “You have no idea. This one time…”. Varric launched into an epic tale about one of his adventures with Hawke where they’d split up to escape a group of bandits on Sundermount and how he’d waited up all night at the Hanged Man for her to return. He wove the tale with his usual fervor and his worries faded a bit as he lost himself in the joy of storytelling.

He’d just finished the story and Dorian was snorting in amusement when the crunching, heavy strides of two armored people approaching, interrupted them. It wasn’t until he looked back and realized that he could make their faces out clearly, that Varric realized the storm had finally settled down and the night was clear once more.

“Are you people taking shifts or something?” Varric said, throwing his hands up in exasperation as he recognized his newest companions. 

“I need my beauty rest anyways.” Dorian said with a laugh. “I’ll leave you three to it. Try not to kill each other.”

Cullen rubbed at his jaw and the slowly blooming bruise, clearly remembering Varric’s previous anger. Varric couldn’t help but tease him. “How’s the jaw, Curly?” The former templar blushed lightly but whether it was in anger or shame Varric never found out because Cassandra cut across them with her typical blunt nature.

“We are not here to cause trouble. We are here to stand watch. And to help, in case…if anything happens.” Cassandra seemed to hesitate at the end, but something in her normally stony face told Varric that it was less that she didn’t have hope for Solea’s return, and more that she was afraid to hope. It was a feeling he could relate to.

The night sky was just beginning to lighten with the faint hints of the approaching dawn, telling Varric he’d been sitting out for hours. He didn’t have the energy to worry about two people whom he had very mixed emotions about. Yelling at the two of them about how this was all their fault, asking them how they could bring a child into this, wasn’t going to solve anything. It wouldn’t bring Flicker back to him, and it wouldn’t ease the tight knot that was bunched up just behind his ribs.

“You might as well sit down.”

Between Cassandra’s taciturn nature and Cullen’s awkwardness around him, silence reigned once more at the little outpost. The cold bit his lungs with every breath and his nose was bright red but Varric noticed it little. He wondered how it was possible to simultaneously want time to stop and speed forward. The uncertainty was a weight in his chest but as long as he didn’t know, he could hope. His mind spun with dark thoughts, his imagination conjuring horrible images of a small broken body half-buried in the snow, of crisp white snow turned scarlet with blood, of a curtain of black hair dangling from a limp head, of wide open eyes staring at him, the blue color dull, lifeless, extinguished. He wanted to think of something else, anything else, but all he could do was stare at the gap between two rocky cliffs and feel his heart sink more with every passing minute. The images kept flashing in his head.

The sky began brightening from dark indigo to the softer blues and purples of dawn. Varric didn’t know what to do once the sun rose. Didn’t know how the world could keep on turning as if nothing was wrong. He blinked, eyes closing slowly until he forced them open again. Sleep was calling him, but he refused to move his gaze from the pass.

Another slow blink and a bright light shone on the horizon, teasing his tired eyes. The sun, he thought with a heavy heart, sunrise had come, and the creeping orange daylight was here to mock him. The light was blindingly bright and growing. He blinked again, wondering if he was nodding off without realizing it because the sun didn’t usually rise that quickly. But the blaring light was getting stronger.

There was a flurry of movement around him. Commander and Seeker scrambled to their feet as if to flee the rising sun. The sudden motion after so much stillness had him blinking again and then he realized—they were running towards the sun, not away from it. Confused, Varric blinked again, rubbing his eyes to clear them. Then, he saw what the others had noticed. There was no red and orange creeping over the distant horizon. 

The light was coming from something much closer, and it was blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this?!?! Me posting another chapter within two weeks? It's more likely than you think!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this, Varric certainly didn't the poor dwarf. This whole story spawned from me loving the idea of Uncle Varric watching over baby Hawke but has really started to become me seeing how much I can torture the poor guy and write him being sad. Whoops.
> 
> Apologies for any typos, I'm exhausted, its late, and I just finished my first week of graduate school so my brain hurts. Cheers to everyone else that started or is soon starting school again as well!


	16. Leader

Solea woke up to unexpected company in the tent she’d been sleeping in. Mother Gisselle was perched delicately on the chair that had been occupied by Varric when Solea had first woken up some time earlier. Based on the return of the night sky outside, visible through the open end of the tent, she’d slept most of the day away. Assuming she hadn’t slept for multiple days. She certainly felt like she could with the way her body ached.

Another companion in the tent drew Solea’s immediate attention, as blankets at the end of the bed moved of their own accord. Her heart rate jumped as a tiny black head peeked up at her from the nest it had made between her legs. Solea wondered if someone had it put it back or if the tiny dog had snuck in on its own. She’d explicitly told Varric the first time she’d awoken—in her brief bout of consciousness—that she didn’t want it anywhere near her. Either way, she wanted it off, now.

She pushed at it desperately with her legs, needing space, needing to not feel its body warmth against her. It was too much, too close. “Get off.” She cried angrily when the Mabari ignored the clear signs that it was not welcome on the bed. Uncannily, the dog immediately leaped off the bed, stumbling only slightly on its front right leg. The limb was completely wrapped in white bandages that made a start contrast against its pitch-black fur but matched the small bundle of bandages wrapped around the tiny stub of its tail.

From the ground, the yellow eyes fixed on her and she swore she could almost hear the question in its confused gaze, as if the dog was asking her why she’d saved its life only to kick it away. 

“He’s been refusing to leave your side since we found you. It appears he has become quite attached to you.”

“Lucky me.” Solea deadpanned, glaring at the monster. She was about to request that Mother Giselle carry the dog out when she caught the harsh voices of an argument from the clearing outside the tent. She propped herself up on her good arm and saw that the Inquisition’s advisors were still bickering amongst themselves about what to do. She’d heard them at it when she’d first woken up and clearly, they hadn’t resolved anything. “Creators, they’re still going at it?”

She lay back down, keeping an eye on the mongrel in case it decided to make an attempt to jump back onto the bed. Solea tried to ignore the knot of anxiety its proximity caused as she waited for the Chantry mother to speak. She assumed that the woman had a more specific reason for being there besides the pretense of watching over Solea as she rested.

Sure enough, Mother Giselle had a lot to say but her words weren’t soothing like Solea had hoped they’d be given her previous interactions with the Chantry woman. Instead, the more Mother Giselle talked, the more Solea felt her anxiety spiking. She almost couldn’t believe it. After everything she’d done to deny she was the Herald of Andraste, these people thought she’d been resurrected because she was a god’s chosen. Mother Giselle herself seemed assured of it, pleading with her to believe it to.

Solea couldn’t stand it, she had to leave, she needed air. Between the religious woman’s expectant face and the sharp gaze of the dog on the ground, she felt her pulse skyrocket. She scrambled up, unbalanced by her right arm being stuck in a sling. Staying upright was a challenge with her wounded leg and for a moment it buckled beneath her weight. Pain erupted, but someone experienced had wrapped it in a tight bandage. It hurt a lot less now than it had when she’d been walking for miles in a freezing blizzard. She limped forward hurriedly, trying to breathe deeply, though her ribs felt like they’d shrunken. There wasn’t enough space, her chest was too small for her lungs to expand. The tent was too small, the canvas walls seemed to press in around her.

The air outside the tent was freezing. It hit the back of her throat like an icy punch, but it smelt of open space and Solea sucked it in gratefully. The weather was calm, as if the mountain had exhausted itself sustaining the howling blizzard and was now recovering in a calm slumber. She pulled the large coat she was wearing tighter around her and then inhaled deeply as the movement released a strange but soothing scent. It tickled at the back of her mind, teasing at a memory, but it wasn’t until she examined it visually that she remembered.

It was oil, the smell of the oil that Varric rubbed into his crossbow to protect the wood and keep it soft. His jacket always smelt of it because he’d once smashed a bottle in the pocket during a battle and the oil had leaked into the fibers of the coat. Thinking of her uncle, Solea scanned the nearby area for familiar golden hair. The sudden urge to see him was strong, a need for both his comfort and his forgiveness for what she’d done.

She noticed all the advisors, including Cassandra, had broken apart since the end of their latest argument. They had separated themselves from each other and were each sulking in their own way—making it clear they’d reached no agreement. She was startled to see that Cullen was sporting the telltale blooming of what promised to be a particularly nasty black eye. She wondered when that had happened.

She moved forward to look for Varric, but exhaustion and injuries made her uncharacteristically clumsy on her feet and she stumbled heavily into the support beam of the tent. The flurry of movement as she hastened to stop from falling over completely drew everyone’s attention. Suddenly, everyone’s eyes were on her and she froze, a chill unrelated to the temperature crept through her. Fingers shaking, she gripped at worn red fabric at her neck for lack of a dagger to hold. She caught her uncle’s gaze, watched as concern quickly melted away to anger and felt something crack in her chest as he looked away.

The stream of apologies she’d been working on since the moment she’d left him, lying unconscious in the Chantry, shriveled up and faded. How could he ever forgive her for what she’d done? Faint blue light began dancing across the snow at her feet, the smell of oil was suddenly suffocating, and she couldn’t breathe through the smell. Her fingers felt frozen against her bandana. She couldn’t breathe. Everyone was staring at her. Desperate, downtrodden faces, looking to her for guidance, for salvation.

Once again, everything felt too close. Energy built in her racing blood – her body’s reaction to her frantic mind. She needed to calm down but there was no pathway through the crowd for escape. Varric wouldn’t look at her. The dog was still in the tent behind her and—a hand tugged gently at her own. Caught in her rising panic, Solea was startled to find Cole standing beside her, holding her glowing hand between his own. His fingers were so warm it almost hurt as the heat breathed life into her frozen digits.

“Cold does not give up easily, always hungry. It lingers where victory was thwarted.” He shook his head and looked up from where he’d been examining her hand. “Not helping. You need to breathe; you aren’t breathing right.”

“I can’t.” Solea gasped, perplexed by his sudden arrival, but unable to think past the pressure in her chest, the burn in her lungs, the sudden warmth of his presence.

“You must.” Cole stared into her eyes as if searching for something before a spark of something lit his fade green eyes. “Follow me. Breathe in.” He made an exaggerated inhale, his chest expanding and Solea mimicked him as best she could. “Now hold it in for 1…2….3….4….” Cole exhaled slowly and softly, counting down to four as he did so and watching her carefully to make sure she was following him. Solea’s heartbeat slowed as her body fell into the familiar rhythm. It was the breathing technique her father had taught her.

The blue light retreated back into her skin. Cole repeated the cycle twice more, but it wasn’t until he stopped and dropped her hand that Solea realized he’d been speaking to her entirely in her own head. Another peculiarity of the strange spirit the she found far less concerning than she probably should. At the moment, all she felt was gratitude.

“Thank you, Cole.”

He smiled softly at her, “I like to help.”

Solea returned his smile briefly but with her mind calm, she knew she couldn’t just stand there. The various members of the Inquisition stared at her as if she could snap her fingers and solve all their problems. Meanwhile the advisors, the people who could actually help, were all lost in their own despair. Solea felt trapped, unsure what she was supposed to do. She felt a sudden deep longing for her mother; the Champion of Kirkwall would know how to handle this.

Whatever she was thinking about doing, Solea would never have guessed that Mother Giselle would emerge next to her singing a Chantry hymn. Solea stood frozen in horror as gradually the entire Inquisition joined in until they were all singing in unison. The song was hopeful in nature but as they sung, people began gathering around her and, to her mortification, some of them knelt before her. 

It felt like an eternity passed as Solea waited desperately for the song to finish, her path blocked by the chorus of people singing _to _her. Creators, she just wanted to get out of here. Warmth surrounded her hand again and she glanced over to find Cole gripping her fingers, offering silent support. She shot him a grateful smile, feeling remarkably calmer for his presence. She barely heard what Mother Giselle said as she sauntered up to Solea’s side from where the young elf had tried to duck into the shadows.

“An army needs more than an enemy. It needs a cause.”

Before Solea could respond that she definitely didn’t want to be anyone’s cause, the unexpected brush of Solas’ magic against her senses alerted her to his presence behind her a moment before he called her name softly. She didn’t waste time taking the excuse to follow the elven mage and slip away from the crowd and their heavy expectations.

* * *

Her conversation with Solas weighed on her mind as Solea trudged through the lightly packed snow. The knowledge about the origins of the orb that had marked her was as intriguing as it was dangerous and she pondered the implications as she led the Inquisition through the mountains, following the directions Solas had given her.

It had taken less convincing than she thought to get them to follow her. The Inquisition’s leaders had seemed mostly relieved to have a direction to head in and a plan of action had removed all discord between them. Now, instead of angry shouting, the only sound cast against the mountains came from the exhaustive efforts of their group of refugees. Lugging even what little supplies they’d managed to bring with them was hard work and the wagons they had made slow progress through the snow.

A faint but consistent whining was audible just at the edge of her hearing and Solea rolled her eyes at the sound. The small Mabari was locked into a back of a wagon because it refused to stop trying to follow Solea at the front of the group. Cullen had tried to restrain it in his arms, murmuring reassuring words to the obnoxious creature, but the demon had promptly bit his hand and used the man’s shock to wriggle loose and scramble after her once more. It seemed it would obey any command expect when she told it to leave. 

When the kennel master, a grizzled old Ferelden named Victor – whose scar covered hands were a testament to his years of experience –approached her complaining that the dog wouldn’t let him care for his wounds, Solea hadn’t understood why he thought she could help. She’d crept reluctantly to Victor’s tent and poked her head in, ordering it to stand still. The dog had straightened up and kept eerily still as Victor had unwrapped the bandages around its tail, letting a steady rumbling growl be its only sign of protest at his touch.

A small stump only a few inches long was all that was left after frostbite had eaten away at the rest, but the amputation was expertly done, and Victor grunted and nodded his head like he was pleased before wrapping it with a clean bandage. The splint fixed to the dog’s broken front leg was still fitted firmly and the oiled leather wrapped around it kept it dry in the snow. 

“His leg’ll take a couple ‘er months to heal but otherwise he’s a healthy young pup.” Victor turned to her as he finished his examination. “Yer wanna make sure he’s eating plenty as he’s like to start growing real big, real quick.”

Solea was glad the dog hadn’t died, but she certainly wasn’t going to go as far as to actually take care of the thing. There were plenty of other people around who could do it instead. She had no interest in encouraging the creature’s annoying desire to follow her everywhere.

Unfortunately, the little demon’s protests at being locked up were only getting louder with time and people began grumbling at the noise. Solea pretended not to notice as she marched forward, thankful that as the leader of their group she was as far away from the noise as she could get. She tried to focus on flexing her fingers individually as she walked, trying to work the feeling back where the nerves had been damaged from her snowy trek. She’d been told she was lucky not to have lost any to frostbite but the lingering numbness was infuriating and made her feel clumsy. Not only that, but the cold seemed to bite at her fingers more and she hated wearing gloves.

Minutes passed and somehow the crying got even louder until even Solea began to wince at the sound. “You’ve got to admire the lung capacity on the little guy.” Varric remarked, but even his cheerful demeanor was dampened by the shrill cries.

“Maker’s breath, will someone shut that thing up.” Cassandra was decidedly annoyed by the situation.

“It will quiet down if we just let it out.” Cullen said hesitantly and she could feel his gaze on her back.

“No.” She refused to turn around, “We can’t let it out.” She would not let the creature win; it had to learn that it couldn’t get everything it wanted.

“By the Maker, why not?” Dorian chimed in in exasperation. “This racket is giving me a headache. I don’t understand why you saved its life only to torture it by locking it up. I thought you Fereldans were all about your blasted dogs.”

Solea turned around angrily, fed up. Her injured thigh was burning from all the walking, her broken arm was throbbing, her entire body ached with exhaustion and she couldn’t take a potion for the pain because she had to stay coherent enough to lead them through the mountains. And dammit, her head hurt from the noise too but the thought of spending all day in fear, with a Mabari trailing behind her was too much. She couldn’t deal with that on top of everything else.

She was just opening her mouth to say no, when she caught sight of the Inquisition just behind her companions. Weary faces, with grief still heavy in their eyes, marching through the snow. None of them had once said a word of complaint this entire time, despite the seemingly aimless trekking through mountains and heavy snow. She failed to protect them in Haven – felt the weight of the missing people on her soul – the least she could do now was suffer her stupid fear of dogs so they could have some peace on their march.

Sighing wearily, her shoulders sank, and she tramped forward, limping slightly on her left leg as she weaved through the crowd. People stopped to watch her backwards progress with interest. When she arrived at the wagon, the noise immediately stopped, as if the dog could sense her presence. She took one steadying breath before throwing the wagon door open and stepping neatly to the side to dodge the ball of fur that flew out.

“Stop.” She ordered before the dog could jump at her once more. As always, it immediately obeyed, although it did whine once in protest. She stared at it sternly, hoping it couldn’t hear the frantic beating of her heart. She was tired, injured and in no condition to fight anything. It made her fear even worse. But she’d committed to this now, and she was relying on the Mabari’s strange habit of listening to her.

“Listen, you can come out but only if you stay in front of me.” She pointed her finger at it, feeling only slightly ridiculous for talking at it like they were having a conversation. “Do not go behind me and do not get too close either. Or I’ll have Victor muzzle you.” It cocked its head to the side and then barked once, wagging its tail enthusiastically. Solea took that as its agreement. “Fine, let’s go you little demon.”

From then on, the puppy became the new leader of the group, frolicking about in the snow at the front as they marched. It ran back and forth and seemed to enjoy the attention it received from her companions, but she was grateful to see that it never once strayed behind her back. As long as she could keep it within eyesight, her terror remained manageable.

“Beaten in a battle of wills by a puppy.” Varric mocked at her side, laughter in his voice.

“Oh, shut up, Uncle.” She mumbled, “I’m just hoping he’ll get mistaken for dinner and a bird will pick him up.”

“You know, I bet you’re right.” Varric mused. “My money’s on a hawk.” Solea groaned at him and shoved him away as Varric chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ALIVE! Extreme apologies for the long break, my life has been insane the last couple months but I think it has finally settled down so I can get back into the swing of my semi-regular updates. Hope you enjoy this chapter!


	17. Inquisitor

The first sight of the castle took her breath away. The stone walls erupted proudly from the mountainside, stark gray standing out amongst the snowy peaks. The walls were crumbling apart in several areas but there was something stalwart and safe about the castle. Solea’s heart told her that this place was meant to be the home of the Inquisition, somewhere the people who’d suffered so much could rest at last. Solas had told her its elvish name, Skyhold in the common tongue. It was a fitting name.

A coughing fit forced Solea to rest for a moment and with their destination in sight, the Inquisition trailed past her, desperate to reach the end of their long journey. She stood to the side as they passed, bent over as she caught her breath and wiped at the snot running from her nose.

“I hate being sick.” Solea complained, glaring at the Mabari as it tried to slip closer while she was distracted. It hadn’t stopped watching her since she’d first shown signs of illness and for days it had been trying to get past her established boundaries when she was too miserable to notice.

“Maybe if you rested more, you wouldn’t have gotten sick.” Her uncle chided her even as he handed her a fresh handkerchief. “I remember your mother complaining to me several times about having the urge to tie you to your bed. And I laughed at her.” Varric shook his head. “I owe her an apology.”

The mention of her mother sobered the mood despite Varric’s attempted humor. Solea looked over the steady stream of people marching towards Skyhold as a cold realization settled in her chest. “I won’t get to go home now, will I?” She said it more as a statement than a question. “When I packed my bag to sneak away and find you, I grabbed enough food for two weeks._ Two weeks._” She let out a dry laugh that dissolved into another bout of coughing.

“Flicker…” She could see her uncle struggling to find words of comfort despite knowing she was right – the mark on her hand tied her to the Inquisition and its cause. It was a fact they’d both refused to acknowledge until now. All this time, holding onto the delusion that she could just go home once the Breach was sealed.

“It’s okay, Uncle.” She tried for a smile but was pretty sure it fell short. “Someone has to do it.” Without another word, she rejoined the crowd and ignored her body’s exhausted complaints as she limped, as quickly as she could, towards the front. She would finish leading the Inquisition to its new home and ignore the longing in her heart for her own.

Solea made it just past the gateway into the clearing of Skyhold before collapsing into the snow. She could feel sweat pouring down her face and her body was wracked with violent shivers even as another bout of coughing struck her. The snow beneath her began melting into her clothes but she had little energy left to move despite her body’s desperate plea for warmth. Blessed warmth ghosted across her face as an inquisitive black nose sniffed at her. The last clear memory she had was of bright yellow eyes looking at her with undeniable concern before feverish delirium clouded her mind.

It took a day for her fever to break and then Solea was confined to bed rest by not only the healer, but the threats of every one of her companions. She found herself too weak to offer much protest and spent three days in bed resting and refusing to admit to anyone how good it felt. She’d been pushing her body to the extreme for weeks and she needed time so she could heal and regain her energy. 

However, by the fourth day she couldn’t take it anymore and she slipped out to survey the repairs happening everywhere within the fortress. The Inquisition had not waited a moment to start fixing up its new home and construction work consumed everyone’s time. Everywhere people were working to make Skyhold hospitable and Solea wandered among them feeling awed by their fortitude, their refusal to stay down.

She spent the morning watching people moving about in organized chaos, feeling like the eye of the storm as she sat perched on a stone wall overlooking the main courtyard. It reminded her of being back in the Sabrae clan, the way everyone was working together and offering help whenever it was needed. She hadn’t seen that kind of cooperation among a group of humans this big before. She admired them for it.

Too weak to do much more than walk around, Solea still found ways to help wherever she could. She spent most of the first couple days getting to know to layout of Skyhold as she delivered food to the people working. She noticed everyone was tense and uneasy around her, so she did not linger longer than necessary to hand out food and flasks of water. Their words of gratitude often chased her retreating back.

Healing was a frustratingly slow process and Solea was constantly cursing the fact that she couldn’t just have a mage wave away her injuries. Waiting for her body to heal, even at her accelerated rate, took forever. She hated feeling useless. She sought any task she could to occupy her time and help contribute. The range of things she could do was frustratingly narrow but finally she found herself splitting her time between the kitchens and the burgeoning infirmary. 

The number of injured from Haven was astounding and her experienced hands were more than welcome. When the healers learned of her knowledge of herbs, she was quickly put to work applying salves and mixing poultices until she finished many days with fingers stained green. The work was soothing and the infirmary a familiar environment where she could hide away. It was a quiet corner of Skyhold where no one expected more of her than the she was capable of providing.

She didn’t see much of her companions during this time and assumed they were all busy with their own work. Cole was often flitting around the infirmary offering his unique brand of help wherever he could. She watched him work with fascination, distracted by the unique aura of fade energy she could sense around him. After only a day of observation, she realized he only appeared to people when he wanted to and often, they seemed to forget they’d ever saw him in the first place.

Her furry shadow was ever at her side, but Solea had given up trying to keep it away – much to Varric’s amusement. Thankfully, fear seemed to require more energy than her body could handle, and she was so busy most days that ignoring its presence was simple. She even managed to forget about the dog’s existence entirely when she became consumed in her work. The only time she didn’t see it was at night, when she crawled up the ladder into the loft of the abandoned tower she’d claimed as her own. It always slept at the bottom of the ladder and bright yellow eyes greeted her every morning as she glanced down.

One night, she was walking with Varric past the tavern – the first building to be fully renovated – and the sound of drunken voices singing ‘Andraste’s Mabari’ carried out through the open doorway. It took Solea a few lines to recognize the song but when she did, she glared down at the dog in annoyance.

“This is all your fault.” Innocent eyes stared up at her. “Now they’ve got another reason to call me the bloody Herald.” She narrowed her eyes as the dog’s mouth opened in a careless grin. She could see several gaps where its baby teeth had fallen out. 

Victor had told her that its adult teeth would grow in within the next few months. Until then, she’d been carrying around various scraps of leather for it to chew on because she’d quickly discovered that puppy teeth could be very destructive. A tossed piece of leather kept the Mabari completely occupied, sometimes for hours.

“You know, I don’t think he’s going to apologize.” Varric’s voice was light and amused. He was constantly entertained by her struggles with her unwanted new companion.

“It would go a long way towards earning its keep if it did.” 

* * *

Two months passed before Solea realized it, marked by the day her arm finally left its sling and she was two-handed once more. The freedom to move her right arm again put her in high spirits and she even laughed as the puppy, freed now from its own splint, jumped around excitedly in celebration.

Solea walked from the infirmary, the Mabari bouncing around her, and she felt like she could dance herself. All she had to do was deal with whatever Cassandra wanted and then she could finally test out the new training grounds. The Inquisitions leaders had been meeting constantly in Skyhold but Solea had been thankfully left out of these discussions. This would be the first full conversation she had with the Seeker since arriving at Skyhold and she hoped it would be brief.

As Hawke luck would have it, Solea’s good mood disappeared the longer Cassandra talked. The Seeker’s words seemed to be hinting at something that set the young elf on edge, wariness settling more with every passing compliment from the older woman. Her worst fears were confirmed just as they crested a set of stairs to find Leliana holding a large, ornate sword in her hands.

“Inquisitor.” The title rung heavy in her ears and all Solea could hear was ‘Champion’. “You expect people to accept an elvish apostate, who lied for months about being a mage, as their leader?” They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. She felt like she’d been hit with her own lightning, paralyzed with dread as they tried to thrust a position upon her the same way the people of Kirkwall had raised up her mother to the mantle of Champion.

“I will not pretend no one will object, but times are changing. Already, the people have come to respect you.”

Solea scoffed in disbelief and Leliana spoke for the first time. “I have heard countless tales about you the last two months. They tell about the miracle of Haven, how you saved everyone’s lives and survived death itself. You have become a figure of legend. Then you spent two months working amongst them like a commoner. Helping with even the most mundane tasks. It is not often a leader demonstrates that kind of humility. Whatever problems they had with you before are irrelevant now.”

“That’s not–” Solea argued by she was cut off.

“There would be no Inquisition without you. It is you who have brought us here.” Cassandra declared with certainty. “There is no other the people would accept to lead them. How you will lead, how it will serve. That must be yours to decide.”

Solea felt faint blue light swirl from her hands. She stared in stunned silence as the sword was proffered to her once more. They had not asked if she wanted this, had not even bothered to consider her opinion important. This was not a choice; this was just another decision in her life that had been made for her. This was the final link chaining her to the Inquisition, the culmination of her realization on the mountaintop with Varric. She would not be allowed to leave. She was not going home. From this moment on, the Inquisition would consume her.

In the second it took for her to realize all this, Solea was hit with a sudden longing for her mother. Solea didn’t feel at all ready for the responsibility being forced upon her shoulders. She was only fifteen. She didn’t have a clue what she was supposed to do, and she missed her parents with a fierceness that punched through her chest and drove the breath from her lungs. But still the sword gleamed tauntingly in front of her, unmoved by her emotions.

As she’d watched her mother do so many times, Solea pushed aside her feelings to face the duty before her. She calmed her heartbeat and let only the crackling blue gleam of her eyes betray her as she wrapped her hands around the ornate bronze dragon that decorated the hilt. She could feel the two woman’s approving gazes as she marched doggedly up the final set of steps to stand above the crowd of people.

What happened next was a blur in her memory, the voices around her mere buzzing to her rattled mind as the eager faces of the entire Inquisition, which had grown significantly in the last two months, stared up at her. Solea was pretty sure she’d made some attempt at a speech but could not for the lifer of her remember a word of what she’d said. She spent the entire time focusing on the warm pressure against her leg from a small bundle of black fur that for once didn’t send a shiver of fear up her spine. It made her feel less alone, less like she was about to blow away in the wind. When the crowd began raising their arms and cheering, Solea held the sword aloft obligingly, her recently healed arm straining against the weight that seemed to settle into her very bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter and not a ton of stuff going on but I feel after everything she's been through Solea deserved a little bit of break from the action. The two characters we've all been waiting for will arrive soon I promise. Next chapter or the one after at the absolute latest :)


	18. Protector

Solea was on the battlements when Varric found her, throwing a piece of leather for the Mabari to fetch as she walked along the ramparts. She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice her uncle’s presence until the puppy growled menacingly, taking a defensive position in front of her. His muzzle wrinkled to bare his teeth and she noticed that the shaky rumble of a puppy was evolving into the menacing snarl of a Mabari hound. 

The sound used to terrify her, but now his protective nature was comforting. She had come to accept the notion that the Mabari pup had no desire to harm her. In fact, he seemed to sense her wish to be left alone and had promptly chased away anyone who tried to approach her after the ceremony. That alone had endeared him to her, and she found herself welcoming his presence as she walked the walls of Skyhold.

“It’s alright, dharlin.” It felt less strange to speak to him than it used to. “It’s just Uncle Varric.” The Mabari glanced back at her, as if to double check, before relaxing and stepping back to press against her leg. She returned the pressure gently, appreciating his warmth against the cooling air.

“You two finally settle your differences?” Varric inquired curiously. Solea shrugged, unsure how to voice her evolving regard for the little Mabari she’d rescued from Haven.

She waited for him to say more but Varric simply leaned against the stone wall, watching as she resumed her game of fetch in the fading sunlight. She could sense a residual anger in him, despite her uncle’s relaxed posture. It made her uneasy, fidgeting occasionally at her bandana. When words finally came to him, they were so unexpected that she spun to him shock.

“I was thinking about names for him.” Varric nodded at the Mabari. “You can’t keep calling him ‘it’ forever.”

“I wasn’t planning on calling him anything.” She argued stubbornly.

Varric raised an eyebrow at her as she threw the leather stick once again. “A couple months ago I might have believed that but you’re too much like your mother.” Solea threw him a startled, glance and he elaborated. “She was always adopting every stray to cross her path. Hers just happened to be people rather than a dog.” He made a vague gesture at the Mabari. “You can’t carry something for miles through the mountains and not form some sort of bond.”

Solea huffed. “I’m beginning to understand that.”

“I talked to Victor about him. He said Mabari only bond to one person, called it ‘imprinting’. He said he’s never seen it happen in a dog as young before.” Varric hesitated for a moment before continuing. “He told me it wasn’t a reversible process. Once they bond, they bond for life.”

“Guess I’m stuck with him then.” Solea threw the stick again and watched the puppy chase after it enthusiastically, thinking back to when she’d rescued it from the carnage of Haven’s collapse. “I wanted to leave him at first, when I found him. I could barely walk. Didn’t seem worth the burden saving one stupid dog.” She could feel Varric staring at her earnestly, this was the most she’d talked about the night that Haven had fallen.

“What changed your mind?”

“He survived.” Varric looked at her in confusion and she waved her hands about as she tried to explain. “I was surrounded by death and destruction, the end of Haven. By rights it should have been my end too. And here this tiny creature was, amidst all the carnage, _alive_. It felt wrong to let him die, just because I was afraid. I couldn’t let him be just another ending.” She lapsed into silence before shaking her head. “You said something about a name, Uncle?”

Varric took the abrupt subject change in stride. “The idea came to me on our journey through the mountains. I had some help from Chuckles for the required subtlety. He was insufferable about my pronunciation by the way.” Varric was grinning and looking quite pleased with himself. “You’re going to love it.”

Solea knew Varric took names very seriously so she didn’t doubt he was right. Especially given his current self-satisfied expression. The fact he’d gone to Solas for help was a surprise, she hadn’t expected him to go for an elven name. “Well go on, what has the great Varric Tethras come up with.”

His eyes gleamed. “Aenorean.”

The elvish was clearly foreign in his mouth but she recognized the word instantly. Solea felt a laugh spill out of her. A single, disbelieving chuckle that broke into full on belly laughs that had her collapsing on the ground with tears in her eyes. Between laughs she managed to squeeze out, “You…you want to name him _Hawk_?” Varric’s grin widened even further and she dissolved into another fit of giggles.

“It seemed fitting.” Varric’s voice was full of mirth. “Given the color of his eyes.”

Solea’s belly ached as she leaned against the stone blocks. “Uncle, that is both the best and worst idea you’ve ever had.” She wiped at her eyes as a few small giggles slipped out. “You expect us both to keep straight faces while we dangle my secret under everyone’s noses?”

“I think we can manage.”

“Maker, Cassandra will kill you if she ever finds out. Hell, Leliana will help her hide your body.” Despite her half-hearted disagreement, Solea loved the audacity of it, of flaunting her identity in front of them all. It felt rebellious, like she was rubbing it in the faces of those who’d made her Inquisitor that they didn’t even know her last name.

She whistled softly and the Mabari in question looked up from where he’d been demolishing the scraps of leather that remained of his toy. Varric’s earlier words had been in jest but the puppy’s eyes were reminiscent of a bird of prey. It would be a good cover story if anyone bothered to ask where the name had come from. “What do you think?” She tested the name on her tongue, feeling it out as it left her lips. His head titled sideways before he got up and walked over to sit in front of her, eyes watching her expectantly. Varric laughed and Solea smiled with him. “Aenorean it is.” 

It was strange to think of naming him, of accepting his permanent place in her life. But given everything that had changed for her today, and would continue to change, learning to overcome her fear of dogs felt trivial. This, at least, was something she could choose for herself, a piece of her life that would be hers alone. They could call her Inquisitor, but she would always be Solea Hawke and Aenorean would be her reminder of that. She was also encouraged by the thought that her parents would find it amusing.

That night, she wandered the Fade aimlessly, not really focusing on where she was going but unsurprised when she found herself walking through Haven. Here, controlled by her will, the town was undamaged, untouched by Corypheus or the avalanche she’d brought down upon it. In the doorway of the Chantry, Solea wondered what it looked like now, buried in snow. 

The sudden appearance of Solas walking through the hall startled her out of her thoughts. He’d told her many tales of his journeys into the Fade, but she’d never run into him. Curious, she followed him down into the dungeons until he stopped at the room where she’d first awoken after the explosion in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He stared at the chains lying loose in the center of the room.

“I sat beside you while you slept, studying the anchor. I ran every test I could, searched the fade. Yet, I found nothing. No explanation.” She stepped up beside him as he continued talking. “Cassandra suspected duplicity, threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn’t produce results.”

Solea smiled wryly. “Yes, that does sound like her.” She was about to ask him what he was doing when they moved. In that strange instantaneous blink of the Fade, they were suddenly outside the gates of Haven. Solas walked forward without hesitation and Solea followed, knowing he would explain in his own time what his purpose for being here was.

“You were never going to wake up. How could you, a mortal sent physically through the Fade? You weren’t even a mage.” Solas paused here, distracted. “I am still confused by that. I studied you for days while you were unconscious, but I never sensed even a hint of magic. How can that be?”

“Perhaps, you just aren’t as good as you think you are.” Solea grinned mockingly and Solas snorted in amusement. “The answer to your question is both complicated and simple. Mainly its practice, lots of practice. I’ve been learning to hide my magic practically since I was born. I’ve gotten very good at it, as you experienced.”

“Indeed. Hiding it for months while in constant proximity with mages, templars and even a Seeker is impressive.” Solas acquiesced. “But even the most accomplished mage can’t control their flux of magic while they sleep.”

The implied question was more difficult to answer but Solea supposed her lyrium powers weren’t really a secret anymore considering how often she’d used them in front of others in battle. She summoned her power forth, letting her body bloom with a blue glow as she held her arms out demonstratively. “Most mages aren’t like me.”

Solas eyes widened and he stared at her skin in fascination. She could practically see the thoughts racing behind his eyes. “Is that…lyrium? But- It can’t be. I saw the light when you were fighting but I thought it was just a spell.”

“It’s what keeps my magic so well hidden, even when I’m asleep.”

“They cancel each other out.” Solas realized. “But how do they not react with one another in more violent ways? How much lyrium did you take to achieve this? How does it work?”

Solea laughed. “Is this what it’s like when I barrage you with questions?” She waved off his apologies. “It’s refreshing to be the one with the answers for once. Though, I’m not sure my explanation will be satisfactory. I’m not a scholar like you or Dorian, I was taught how to use and control my abilities. Understanding the theory behind them was never as important.”

“Did your Keeper not instruct you on magical theory?” Solas’ brow furrowed. “I confess I have little experience with the Dalish, but surely their mages are competent enough in their teachings.” The usual disdain in his voice when he spoke of the Dalish was as present as ever.

“Keeper Marethari did her best with me but things in my clan were…complicated.” Solea began walking again, needing to stay moving as memories of her life in the clan rose to the forefront of her mind. She did not want to accidentally let her thoughts take shape in the Fade and reveal things better left hidden.

“You don’t speak much of your clan, but you are always so eager to get home.” Solas observed pointedly and then as if the thought had just occurred to him. “And your face isn’t marred by vallaslin like most Dalish.”

“Yes, well traditionally the ceremony isn’t held until you come of age.” Solea smirked. “Surely you know that, hahren?” She didn’t mention that she’d never planned on getting her vallaslin for the same reason she didn’t explain why she didn’t like to talk about the Sabrae clan. That would only lead to more questions she couldn’t answer.

For the first time since she’d met him, Solas seemed utterly dumbfounded. As Solea watched him falter, she felt a growing suspicion. “Wait, how old do you think I am?” If Solas didn’t know then… “Does no one in the Inquisition know how old I am?” She paused a moment and then laughed to herself. “Of course, they don’t. No one ever bothered to ask me. Fenhedis, they named me bloody Inquisitor but didn’t bother to check how old I was. And here I was thinking they couldn’t possibly be any more stupid.”

Solas recovered quickly from his shock. “Is it so surprising? You do not act like a child. There is an…intensity about you. Despite your joking, you take things seriously. You display a maturity I’ve yet to see most fully-grown adults possess. It is one of your most admirable qualities and perhaps the reason why you made it this far.”

“I think my incredible combat abilities are the reason I’m still alive.” Solea joked, uncomfortable at the praise in the elder elf’s tone. She hated being treated like a child, it was infuriating when people wouldn’t take her seriously just because of her age. But she wasn’t sure how she felt about Solas’ comments either. It made her feel like there was something wrong with her, that she was faulty because she couldn’t act like a normal kid.

* * *

When Solea woke in the morning, she was startled for a moment by her unfamiliar surroundings. She forgot that she’d been moved into a new room. Josephine had declared that an abandoned tower was no fit place for the Inquisitor. Her new bedroom was in the main keep, all the way at the very top of the tower. She knew it was supposed to be an honor, but the long staircase up to her room just made her feel isolated and alone. 

The room was absurdly large, spanning the entire top floor. It was already completely populated with basic furniture and when Solea opened the wardrobe she found it bursting with a range of outfits that all appeared to be her size. She sighed as she filtered through the various options – most of them had a definite Dalish style – feeling resigned that her life was once again being dictated by others. Not even her clothes were her own choice anymore.

Knowing she had no option if she didn’t want to wear her dirty clothes again, she grabbed at a dark brown leather outfit that looked to be the most practical of her options. She ignored the boots in favor of her usual footwraps and tied her bandana around her neck in anticipation of the chill outside. She made sure to grab her bow and quiver as she donned her weapons, planning on using hunting as an excuse to escape Skyhold for the day. As she approached the door, Aenorean got up with a yawn from the blanket she’d thrown on the floor for him. He stood just past her knees now she realized; he was growing fast.

Escaping the castle was a pain when she didn’t have the energy to hide herself in the Fade. Aenorean’s fur stood out like a sore thumb against the snow and forced them to rely on speed over stealth. The duo burst through the front gates at full tilt, avoiding several calls of ‘Inquisitor!’ that chased them. Solea kept running deep into the woods, enjoying the freedom to to run full tilt without her arm in a sling. Aenorean seemed equally as joyful as he kept pace beside her.

Hours later, Solea emerged from the woods with a couple geese she’d bagged hung from her back and a half frozen Mabari pup in her arms. His jaws were clamped firmly around a rabbit and despite the frost caking his fur that had him shivering violently, she could feel the stub of his tail wagging joyfully against her arm. Smiling at the proud way he held onto his catch, Solea murmured praises to him and promised him a warm fire as she marched back to Skyhold. 

Neither of them had been prepared for the extreme cold and Solea could admit they both had been a little overeager in their running. Aenorean had returned triumphant with his catch but a limp in his right foreleg that had left him struggling in the deep snowdrifts. Her own thigh was aching down to the bone, her fingers were stiff with cold, and her right arm muscles throbbed from overuse. By the time she reached the familiar gates of Skyhold, her own limp had returned.

“You know, you’re were much lighter last time I carried you through the snow.” She complained even as she continued to carry Aenorean towards the keep. The sight of the roaring fires in the great hall nearly made her collapse with relief. She laid Aenorean down in front of the flames, groaning happily as their heat licked at her face. She stretched her hands towards the fireplace, flexing the ache from her fingers and enjoying the feeling of warmth and blood flow returning.

Aenorean shook himself, sending a spray of frost and half melted snow flying from his coat and splattering Solea with water. She jumped back with a curse and turned to glare at him only to laugh as she saw he was still holding fiercely onto his rabbit. “You know you can put that down now.” He padded forward with a whine, dropped it at her feet, then sat down.

“I didn’t mean you had to give it to me.” Solea stared at him in confusion but he simply cocked his head at an angle. She shook her head, using the tip of her bow to push the rabbit back at his feet. “It’s your first kill, you earned it.” Aenorean’s ears perked up and he stood before hesitating. She swore she saw disbelief in his eyes. Maker, next thing you know she’d be expecting him to talk back to her. “Go on, it’s yours.” The last encouragement seemed to be enough and he dug in eagerly. Solea grimaced and looked away trying to focus on getting warm rather than the visceral sounds of the Mabari eating his prey. 

Solea realized suddenly that there wasn’t any other noise in the room. She looked around to see people all around the great hall had ceased their conversations and were staring at her. Some were pretending to be working but many had stopped completely to watch. She fidgeted restlessly under the attention and wondered if someone had brought wood up to the fireplace in her new room. Now that she was defrosted, she’d rather continue warming up in privacy. Her room also had the added benefit of warmer clothes for her to change into

Solea stood up to move, about to call Aenorean to her, when she sensed it – a giant surge of energy from the direction of the main gates followed by a rippling in the fade that made her blood hum. She was moving before her conscious mind caught up with what her body had already realized. She recognized the resonance of that energy. She knew it better than her own.

The sounds of people shouting were muted by the energies of the fade wrapped around her as Solea charged forward at supernatural speeds. She didn’t stop to move around obstacles but rather phased through them, forgoing the stairs to simply leap straight off the balcony to the ground. She landed without a sound, slipping back out of the Fade to see a commotion of guards scrambling for their weapons and shouting about an intruder.

“Where is she? Where’s my daughter?” An angry voice shouted, audible above everything else. Solea froze yet again. She was not surprised, really, she’d recognized the signature of his lyrium the instant she sensed it, but her mind struggled to accept the truth even as she saw him across the courtyard. Despite the chaos billowing around him, his eyes found her across the courtyard, and Fenris staggered to a stop as he saw his daughter.

Solea knew it was him, her eyes, her magic, her blood, her heart, they all told her so, but still she faltered. She blinked and her mind remembered glowing red eyes, the burn of markings turned crimson with corruption, a body covered in scars. She remembered watching him die, had relived the moment of his death over and over in her nightmares. She was intimately familiar with the sight of his broken body dangling from the claws of a demon.

Logically, she knew that had never happened, that in this reality Fenris was alive, but it hadn’t felt true. She’d been carrying the grief of his death since Redcliffe, mourning him for months. It wasn’t until she was standing there staring at his blessedly normal green eyes, watching him breathe in and out, so very much _alive_ that she believed it.

“Papa?” Her voice broke on the emotion creeping up her throat. “You’re alive.”

“Solea.” Fenris responded softly but she heard her name as if he’d shouted it in her ear.

They met halfway, fade-stepping across the distance between them in the blink of an eye and there was no more hesitation as she leapt into her father’s arms. He caught her with ease, and she wasn’t sure which of them was squeezing tighter as she buried her head in his shoulder, crying helplessly into his shirt. She could feel him, warm and solid in her arms. She could sense the humming power of his markings – pure, uncorrupted lyrium. She pulled at it desperately needing to reassure herself that it was untainted and she felt her own blood respond to resonate along the same frequency.

Enveloped by the strength of her father’s embrace, Solea felt like she was three years old again, running to her father after a nightmare, knowing he would protect her. Eventually, her father drew back gently to look at her, holding her face in his hands as he examined her, checking for injuries. Solea clung to him, fists wrapped in his shirt as she tried to find the words, not sure what she wanted to say to him first. There was so much she wanted to tell him, so many questions she wanted to ask, but even as relief and joy at seeing him filled her, she was plagued by guilt. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, startling him to meet her eyes. She felt tears well up again and closed her eyes, unable to meet his gaze as apologies streamed out in a jumbled rush. “I’m sorry, Papa. I shouldn’t have left. I yelled at you and mom and I said such awful things and they weren’t true. I didn’t mean for this to happen, I swear. I didn’t want you to die because of me. None of this was supposed to happen.” 

Her voice caught and Fenris pulled her into him once more as words escaped her and she hid her face against his chest. “Oh, little one.” Fenris ran his hand soothingly through her hair as he mumbled reassurances to her. Solea was just deciding that she wasn’t ever going to move when a wry voice complained loudly.

“Well shit, Broody. Are you ever going to learn the meaning of a quiet entrance?” Solea turned to see her uncle watching them with his chest heaving as if he’d just finished sprinting across the castle. Given his lack of surprise at her father’s presence, Solea had a feeling he’d done just that, probably in the process of trying to stop Fenris from barging in.

Finally taking in everything around her, Solea realized a large crowd was gathered around them, lured out by the commotion. Several guards and templars had their weapons drawn but were hesitating to step closer. She realized that both she and her father were glowing blue, his markings responding to her own as her blood shone with her joy, her veins flickering vibrantly. She hadn’t lit up like this from happiness since she was a toddler. 

Carefully, she reigned in her power and pulled the light back. She was deeply conscious of the many eyes staring at her, watching, assessing. She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how she could salvage this situation to protect her secret, this last piece of her that she’d been hiding away. She turned back to her father, wanting to see what he thought when she noticed something that had escaped her attention amidst the shock of seeing him again.

“Fenhedis, father! What did you do to your hair?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dharlin = puppy  
Aenorean = hawk/bird of prey  
Hahren = elder/teacher/mentor
> 
> Heyo I'm back people. This chapter is hella long but I was already late updating and I really wanted to fit the reunion into this chapter so I decided fuck it, the people can deal with a 4000 word chapter. Also, can you be late updating if you're never on-time to begin with? I'm not sure but I feel like I manage it nonetheless. 
> 
> This reunion between Solea and Fenris was the first scene for this book that I thought of and has been swimming around in my brain for months! It was so exciting to finally get to put it down on 'paper' and share it with you. I hope you enjoy it! I'm very soft for papa!Fenris if that wasn't obvious by now.
> 
> Also, the Mabari finally has a name! Let me know if you love/hate it so I can know whether or not I'm justified in feeling extremely clever for coming up with it.


End file.
